


Dan VS. Change

by DarkwingSnark, Mr_Mumbles



Series: Dan VS... [2]
Category: Dan Vs.
Genre: Clowns, F/M, M/M, Multi, Romantic Comedy, comedy hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkwingSnark/pseuds/DarkwingSnark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Mumbles/pseuds/Mr_Mumbles
Summary: Set after"Not Over It".Chris must deal with the aftermath of what he has learned about his best friend, while the rest of the world carries on as usual.
Relationships: Chris Pearson/Elise Pearson, Dan Mandel/Chris Pearson
Series: Dan VS... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653220
Comments: 27
Kudos: 63





	1. Chris VS. the Dread of Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> Moonie and Snark at it again, folks. This time crashing head first into the Dandom. First, let's get some trigger warning out of the way.
> 
> TW: clowns (you've seen that tag), mention of alcohol and under-aged drinking (though that was set in the past), cannibalism, cults... How about we just cover general weirdness?
> 
> I greatly recommend you read the first story. Mostly because my wife wrote it and it's amazing, but also because this story makes many references to the events that happened in it.

It started as an average day for Chris Pearson. It was Saturday, the start of the weekend, which meant Elise was on call for work and could sleep in with him. Chris liked it when he would wake up next to a warm body, his wife’s arms wrapped around him. To most people it might seem _strange_ that such a big man as himself enjoyed being **the little spoon** . But, _well_ … they never had the comfort of having her toned muscled frame nestled against them-- all the while feeling safe from troubles.

_And Chris hoped they never would._

Upon waking was his favorite meal of the day: breakfast. (Not that he didn’t like the others, mind you.) Elise always made a big breakfast on the weekend. It was her way of buttering him up-- _literally, as she lathered a thick clump onto the top of his pancakes_ \-- into doing household chores for the rest of the morning.

She didn’t need to know that her husband would have done it either way… But, well, he DID like the tradition. _No harm in keeping that a secret, really._

It was well past noon when the both of them had finished, and Chris plopped onto the living-room couch, completely spent.

“Oh, _thank goodness_ we’re done. I don’t think I can move anymore.” Chris paused, a look of horror on his face as something occurred to him. Looking at his wife, with big pleading eyes, he carried on. “We… We ARE done, aren’t we? Please tell me we don’t have to leave the couch…”

Elise smiled, nestling in closer to the pathetic lump of a man next to her, as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

“ _We don’t have to leave the couch._ ” She confirmed. “In fact, we have the rest of the afternoon free to relax, maybe catch up on our shows?”

This was said with a wag of the remote, and Chris couldn’t help but return her beam-- gratitude ever present in his eyes.

“ _You had me at ‘we don’t have to leave the couch’_.”

Fate, however, had different plans as loud banging startled the two from their peace. The show had hardly started, when the familiar yelling of demands could be heard from the other side of the door.

“Chris! Chris, open up, _you indolent ignoramus_! How many times do I have to tell you to keep your phone on at all times? I have NEEDS, you know!”

Chris sighed, slumping deeper into the cushions in defeat.

“ _So much for not moving…_ ”

It had been Elise who opened the door, the simple ‘Hello Dan’ of disdain ignored as he pushed his way inside the home. The taller man greeted his friend, this one more genuine as his expression lit up.

“Hi Dan, wanna watch tv with us? We’re streaming ‘Gullet Bowel’-- and it’s the semi finals.”

“I thought we weaned you off the teet of that trash.” Dan said with a glare, almost not believing what he was hearing. “I wouldn’t watch that show with you even if I was lobotomized against my will!”

“You could have just said, ‘no’,” Chris grumbled. This, of course, was paid no attention to as the shorter man went on.

“ _And furthermore_ , we don’t have time for that! This isn’t a social call, we have work to do. Grab your keys, Chris, we’re heading to the carnival.”

At this Chris found a childish joy strike him as he sat up in his seat.

“We _are_?” He turned to his wife. “Is it okay if I go?”

“Why are you asking HER for?” Dan griped. Elise threw him a glare, before smiling back at her husband.

“What happened to you not moving?”

“It’s Silly Symphonies, Elise. They come into town for only one week every summer. And… _usually I’m too busy to go._ ”

This was said with a slight flick of his eyes at his best friend, who was standing there looking annoyed at the fact this whole exchange was even taking place. Elise, naturally, caught on to this as she placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Go ahead, you boys have fun. I have a book I’ve been meaning to get around to, anyway.”

Chris had given his wife a peck on the cheek, leaping from the couch as he ran towards the door-- mentions of corn dogs, funnel cake, and deep fried oreos spilling from him as he jogged towards the car.

It was once on the driveway that the truth of the matter made itself known.

“And don’t worry, I thought ahead and packed your clown costume.” Dan informed him as he climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“Clown costume...?” Chris’ smile fell and he glanced up into his rear view mirror to see the duffel bag sitting in his back seat.

“And luckily I still had about a dozen of those grenades left over from that birthday party last week, but we’ll need to stop by Wally’s and pick up the flamethrowers.”

“Flamethrowers?! Dan what--”

“I figured I’d take care of the holy water after we get there. Do you think we’ll need rope?”

Chris’ fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his eye twitched as he stared at the front door of his house. He should have known this wasn’t just a friendly fun filled trip to the carnival. But he didn’t have to go. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions. It would be easy to just say no, get out of his car, take the keys with him, go back inside, and refuse to leave the couch again until it was time to go to bed.

Chris let out a loud, defeated sigh and slumped, turning the key in the ignition and starting the car.

“Alright, Dan, what happened?” He asked, begrudgingly. “Who wronged you _this_ time?”

“I would hardly call them PEOPLE, Chris. They’re monsters! Creatures of _deceit_ and _lies_ who can’t be trusted, trying to lure in the innocence of youth.”

The man at the wheel of the car gave his friend a sideways glance as he ventured a guess.

“The people who run the carnival games?”

“No,” Dan shook his head, “but they’ll get theirs’ too. I’m talking about the **true** sinners of the carnies: CLOWNS.”

Chris blinked wildly, doing a double take as he fully took his eyes off the road.

“ _Clowns?_ ” He asked incredulously. “What do you even have against them, anyway? I thought you LIKED clowns.”

The shorter man glowered at his stooge. Chris couldn’t help but feel like it carried its weight in insults. Luckily Dan didn’t feel the need to actually say them.

“I like _jesters_ .” Dan clarified. “The fool archetype is a classic form of comedy, and I happened to be _very fond_ of the idea of someone tailoring their comedy to fit their patrons. Clowns, however, are chaotic cretins just looking for any opportune moment to blast you with club soda or throw a pie in your face. _Pulling down your shorts as they laugh and bear witness to your private shame._ **GAH!** I **HATE** those guys! I've been _humiliated_ , Chris, and I won't **STAND** for it!"

" _Well it's a good thing you're sitting then_." Chris snarked, feeling the dread of what was to come already weighing down on him.

Dan wasn’t amused.

“No one asked for sass, you know. Shut up and keep your eyes on the road. As much fun as it is to see you take down cyclists, we don’t have time for games today. We need to infiltrate the ranks, have you take notes for evidence.”

“Evidence? Of WHAT?” Having followed what Dan demanded of him, he had to fight the urge to look back at his friend. Still, his question held the air of exasperation. Dan was just as exasperated as he yelled back.

“ _Of their cult activity, of course!_ I’ve been on to Silly Symphonies for years now, tracking their every movement. Every town they go to? What do you think HAPPENS, Chris?”

“People enjoy themselves?”

“No! _They go MISSING!_ The paper trail is a mile wide, any idiot with half a brain could have tracked it.”

“ _And you picked up on it, then?_ ” Chris said with amusement, feeling pleased with his own joke. He wasn’t as pleased when a moment later he was punched hard in the arm.

“OW! _Hey!_ ”

“You insult my intelligence, Chris, I assault your being.” 

Dan finished this with leaning back in his seat, arms crossed against his person in agitation. Silence hung in the air for a few moments, becoming too thick and heavy for Chris’ liking. Tapping his hands on the steering wheel, he gave in to his anxiety as he placated his clearly insane best bud.

“... You don’t REALLY think they’re clown cultists, do you?”

"That, or they're from outer space.” Dan said with a shrug. “All that matters is that they're EVIL! They MUST be stopped; not just for _me_ . But for the good of _everybody_!"

“Yup, Dan, once again the fate of the entire world rests in your capable hands.” Chris replied flatly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Can the sarcasm, Chuckles, you won’t be laughing when those cannibalistic creeps have you spit-roasted over an open fire. You’ll be **wishing** for these capable hands **then**.”

“I thought you said they were cultists, _they’re_ **_cannibals_ ** _now_?”

“They could be **both**!” Dan snapped, glaring shortly before averting his attention out of his side window. “My theory is they eat the ones they don’t brainwash into becoming one of them. Now, I was thinking--”

But Chris didn’t hear what Dan was thinking, his words quickly becoming background noise as Chris sunk into a state of agitated melancholy. Only months before he’d discovered his best friend had been harboring _romantic feelings_ toward him ever since high school, and since then **nothing** had changed _in the slightest_. And for Dan, why should it? Nothing had changed on the Dan side of the equation. Dan was still living the life of a man in love with his best friend, sitting comfortably with the obvious unrequited affections, like he always had.

No, the problem was Chris was not nearly as skilled in the art of ignorant denial as Dan was. He was expected to just go on with life, acting as if nothing had changed, when discovering your best friend occasionally thought about making out with you or cuddling up to you in the late night hours, or-- well. _It changed_ a lot _of things._

A part of him couldn’t help but wish Dan had let them discuss the matter over at the time of the discovery. To… to have cleared the air, to know where they both truly stood on all things. Chris’ stomach suddenly sunk as he recalled the feelings he had experienced thanks to Imposter Dan’s paranormal involvement. How much his friend was expecting the day he would abandon him, thrown to the curb like the unused exercise equipment Elise’s parents had gifted him for Christmas. He could recall the shame and self-loathing, submerged deep down in Dan’s subconscious. And, worst of all, **the fear**. Of having this someday come to light, and either of the married pair taking out revenge for the betrayal.

If they had talked things over, _like the mature adults they were both supposed to be_ … Maybe he could have comforted Dan and told him he would forever be his best friend no matter **who** he loved.

_‘Although,’_ Chris thought with a frown, _‘I would say I’m not a_ **_fan_ ** _of finding out he was attracted to_ **_COLBY_ ** _, of all people. Could have lived a lifetime without knowing_ **_THAT_ ** _, thanks!’_

Chris was startled out of his introspection by the sudden jolt of the car, finding Dan’s hands on the steering wheel. 

“What are you trying to do, _kill us?!_ ”

“ _No_ ,” Dan argued back, “I was TRYING to turn the car around. You drove right past Wally’s! **C’mon**!”

“ _Oh_.” The taller man was stunned, looking around to finally take in their surroundings. Just how long had he been out of it? Looking abashed, Chris apologized. “Sorry. I… guess I zoned out a little.”

“ **_You think_ ** ?!” Dan yelled back, causing Chris to flinch slightly at the volume. Dan had never quite mastered how to use his inside voice. “I’ll bet you didn’t hear a **_single word_ ** about my plan.”

“Ah no, I didn’t, actually.” Chris admitted, throwing the grown man sulking in his passenger seat a guilty look. They pulled into the parking lot of _Wally's Emporium of Hardware and Explosives_ and parked.

“Would you mind repeating it, by any chance?”

Dan turned to Chris with a contemptuous glare and said nothing, eye contact established and the challenge set. Chris found that Dan was like a wild animal in some ways, one of them being that breaking eye contact with him was to admit inferiority and submission. Chris retained contact, but instead of glaring back as he normally might, Chris retaliated with a genuinely apologetic look. He threw in a slow, lopsided smile.

“Please?”

The effect this had was unexpected to say the least. Something else flashed behind Dan’s glare, brief and unreadable, a split second before he averted his eyes and turned away to reach for the car door handle.

“Fine.” Dan mumbled. “You’re lucky I need you for this. Now try staying on this plane of existence for five minutes this time because I will **not** be repeating myself a third time!”

* * *

Dan Mandel hadn’t needed to repeat himself for a third time, though while Chris had HEARD every word the shorter man said… he still didn’t think he _completely understood_ . Or at least, he understood what was **wanted** from him-- just not **why** he was going through with Dan’s crazy plan **at all** . It was ‘ _relatively simple_ ’ (Dan’s words, not his.): dress up in his clown costume, infiltrate their inner circle as one of their own, pretending to be one of the new workers. And of course he was supposed to report back to Dan whenever he popped up, share his findings.

You know, the ones he would totally find about the existence of potentially cannibalistic clown cults.

They had pulled up to the parking lot of the carnival sometime a couple hours later. Silly Symphonies had a habit of renting the same space every year-- a plot of land that at some point had belonged to farmers of the rural area. That was, until they absorbed all possible nutrients from the soil-- making it completely unusable for the job. It was thanks to the bank, the owners of the land, that it even had the meager tufts of bermudagrass that miraculously resided there. And when it wasn’t rented out to the carnival, it was used for family reunions, weddings, and of course the return of the renaissance fair every fall.

Chris, already out of the car, flinched as Dan slammed the passenger’s side door. He didn’t have time to let his racing heart settle, before he was pelted in the face by Dan’s duffel bag.

“Alright, Chris; it’s showtime. Go on, get dressed.”

“This is _humiliating_ ,” the taller man whined, “can you at the very least keep lookout?”

“What, _afraid I’m going to see your_ **_unmentionables_ ** _?_ ” Dan snarked back, more defensive than usual. “I’ve known you since we were, what? Eight? I’ve seen you in a **SPEEDO** , _for cripes sake!_ ”

Chris glared, as he was equally defensive.

“ _I don’t care if **you** see me take my pants off, _ **_Dan_ ** ,” Chris whispered yelled, “it’s **children** I’m worried about!”

All anger from Dan instantly vanished, as he had a look that said he hadn’t thought about that. Chris would have laughed at what a contrast it was from his anger earlier… that was, if he wasn’t frustrated and about to have his cargo pants drop from his waist at any moment.

Finally Dan nodded his head, breaking the silence.

“You know, you **may** have a point. We wouldn’t want anyone calling the cops.” It was then that he turned around, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk of Chris’ car. “Alright, I’m on lookout. _Just hurry up already, wouldja?_ We haven’t got all day!”

* * *

The surprising part was… Dan’s plan seemed to be **working** . Apparently the place had no security, and most _normal_ people didn’t think about just walking inside dressed in big shoes and wearing the saddest clown makeup imaginable. Like a duck to water, Chris had done the only logical thing he could think of: he saw a troop of clowns and simply just followed them to a small tent they were congregating in. It was then that he was handed a handful of balloons in every color of the rainbow, and told to walk the grounds.

_“Oh, and DO try to smile a bit, would you?”_

Chris had been at this for half the day-- the sun already beginning to set. While he was never a fan of when he was forced to wear disguises, he could honestly say this was one of their more peaceful capers. Handing out balloons, walking around and taking in the nice day, and chatting with a few of the others clowns while on break near the concessions stands. Sometimes Chris could even convince himself he wasn’t in the middle of a Dan scheme at all!

Whatever jovial mood he was in slipped some, however, when his eyes caught sight of one of the attractions. It was one of the larger buildings-- although the house of mirrors won contender for being the largest. Paint slightly chipping, the colors having long since been bleached by the summer sun, it was still legible as it read: ‘ _Tunnel of Love_ ’.

Chris found himself stopping in his tracks, as he stared-- a sense of sadness washing over him like the water pumping from the hose that kept the ride circulating. Once more he couldn’t help but think of Dan, and the numerous nightmares that centered around THAT location. The pain. The near drowning as his friend was shoved face first into all his repressed emotions. _The way Dan’s hands had tugged on his hair as they clashed together in the suffocating darkness-_

“Wait, what?” Chris uttered aloud, bringing himself back to reality. That… last part had been a bit awkward. It was strange how real it all felt, despite the fact it hadn’t been his dream in the first place. How he could remember the sensations, bringing back foggy drunken memories from their last year of high school. 

They shouldn’t have been drinking, he knew that. He had _always_ known that. Yet, just like present day, he had trouble telling Dan ‘no’-- be it from a sense of obligation or his trouble with boundaries. So they drank, staring off the edge of Felix Sanches’ cliffside. (The same spot where they had nearly fought to the death, now that Chris thought about it.) Just them, yelling out all the pent up anger they had as rowdy teens. How the system was unfair. The challenges and pressures put on them. And of course Dan had his list to remind him of every petty slight against him.

As the night went on, and the more they drank the cheapest beer they could get their hands on… the rest became a blur.

But the dream… it made him think of that night, and the fact his mind may have been drawing from _past experiences_.

Despite it all, and the confusing feelings that were left lingering inside him, Chris couldn’t help but think of his wife. The woman he **loved**. Yet again he felt his inside contort with that growing familiar sense of guilt and grief.

Chris sighed, gloved hand resting against his painted forehead as he grumbled his frustrations.

“ _I swear, if it weren’t for the fact he was dead, I might consider killing the guy…_ ”

“Killing WHO, now?”

Chris made an unflattering, strangled yelping noise at the sudden intrusion to his thoughts, recoiling from the guy who he swore hadn’t been there a moment before.

“Dan! Don’t **_do_ **that! You almost gave me a heart attack-- is that a corn dog?”

Chris was immediately distracted by the fact Dan was holding a steaming corn dog in each hand.

“That’s what the vendor said, but take anything these con artists and yokels say with a grain of salt ... _and maybe some form of antacid._ ” Dan replied, handing one of them out to Chris.

“And by the way, hold off on your murderous rampage until we’re sure these guys aren’t human. I mean **_I_ ** know they’re not, but we need evidence that’ll hold up in a court of law. ... Are you **_crying_ **?”

_“I was so hungry._ ” Chris whimpered as he chewed the delicious carnival treat. Dan glanced down at his own before handing that one over to Chris, too.

“Well, here then, you insatiable glutton; they’re probably made out of people meat, anyway.”

“Please don’t say that ... don’t ruin corn dogs for me...” Chris let go of the single red balloon he had left to grab for the other corn dog, instead. Dan watched as it drifted away, bouncing off the side of the tunnel of love building, and he shuddered.

“Brr, that place gives me the creeps.” He reached up to grab Chris’ puffy sleeve, tugging him in the opposite direction, and Chris didn’t fight this in the slightest as he happily munched on his late lunch.

“So? Speaking of evidence, what did you find out? And don’t leave out a single gory detail, I want it all.”

“Mmm, _well_ ,” Chris began in between bites, eyes looking upward as he tried to recall everything he had learned today. “Miriam, an older woman, says she has been with the carnival since its conception as a child. Apparently started by excommunicated Amish people.”

Dan groaned, looking annoyed.

“Ugh, **Amish** . They’re _nearly_ as bad.”

“As bad as cannibal clown cultists?” Chris asked, incredulously. 

“As bad as any other cockamamie religious communities, _yes._ ” Dan muttered with finality, waving his hand as if to dismiss the discussion altogether. “Now go on, what else did you find out?”

“That’s about it, in regards to history. Just that mostly it’s been stuck within the original families. Outside of a few people they’ve picked up along the way.” Chris smiled. “Robert invited me to the babyshower they’re throwing for his wife. He seems nice.”

“ _Robert?_ ” Dan seemed peeved by this, for reasons unknown to the taller man. “What kind of clown name is ‘Robert’? What’s funny about **THAT**?”

“You… **DO** know they have actual names, _right_? You can’t put ‘Dumplings the Clown’ on a birth certificate.”

Chris’ rebuttal, quite naturally, went ignored as his friend threw his arms into the air in aggravation.

“So you’ve been here all day and found out **NOTHING** !” Dan turned around, arms crossed and finger to his lip as he thought over his next actions. “It’s my fault, really, _sending in a Chris to do a Dan’s job._ ”

“You… KNOW I can hear you, right?” Chris asked, annoyed.

“No you can’t, _shut up._ ” Dan turned back around, eyes lit in resolve. “Okay, here’s the new plan. You keep on being useless while I go snoop around. If they have skeletons in their closet, then I’ll be sure to find them.”

Chris blinked a few times, processing what was said.

“You… do mean that **figuratively** , don’t you?”

Dan shrugged.

“ _Who can say with cultists_ . People **ARE** missing, after all.”

And it was with this final thought that the shorter man walked away, getting lost to the twilight crowd. Despite the fact everything about this whole day had been as ridiculous as the very costume Chris was wearing… he couldn’t help but feel worried.

Whether it was for Dan or the carnival, WELL… he couldn’t say.


	2. Dan Vs. the Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Chris is busy socializing, Dan confronts his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are said this chapter that in no way reflect the authors' opinions. This is Dan we're talking about, after all. The man is full of biases.

Clowns, it had always been clowns, hadn’t it? Whether it had been Dan’s grandma trying to find some activity to keep him engaged for a few hours-- dropping him off at the carnival while she went off to play poker with her girlfriends. Most of the rides had been fun, and his grandma had even given him extra pocket money to try the booths or have some snacks. His first ever milkshake had been his realization of weakness, as his stomach had tightened with excruciating pain from his lactose intolerance. 

_Yet,_ **_still_ ** _, it had been better than any day he was with his parents._

No, things had only turned for the worst when _they_ showed up. Dan had heard the sound of the upbeat music first, slow and hauntingly alluring with every click and toot honked from the distance. The squeaking was heard next-- like that of rubber sole with far too much air inside them as they traversed across dewed grass. It was a horrendous noise, every step a metronome of horrors. _Da dah da dah_ \-- **EEK** . _Da dah de dah de_ \-- **EEK**. It grew louder, this eldritch cacophony, every second ticking away and sealing the child’s doom.

It wasn’t long before Dan saw it. (Yes, _it_ , even back then Dan doubted the humanity of this **creature** .) There, backlit by the blinding light of the summer sun, was the cause of his terror. The creator of _the noise_. The organ grinder smirked, eyes seemingly locked on him and him alone, his visage hidden by greased white face paint. But that wasn’t what little Dan had focused on, oh no. No, his eyes were locked onto the creature’s smile. Lips adorned with dripping red, a contrast to that sickening yellowed beam.

That thing stared at him-- all the while grinning that madcap grin-- as its’ hand continued to crank out the barrel organ’s tune.

Dan wasn’t ashamed to admit he ran. Ran as far and fast as his little beany body could carry him. Ran through the carnival, that beast’s laughter following him no matter where he turned.

It wasn’t long before he had collided into something, knocking the wind right out of him.

“Well _hello there_ , pal.”

The voice hovered above him, and curiosity getting the better of him as Dan had looked up to see who was greeting him. All feeling left his face as the mind numbing terror struck him.

It was another one of _them_.

“You here to ride the ride?” The clown’s voice was as squeaky as the rubber shoes had been. Cracking in and out like a prepubescent teen waiting for puberty to hit. Dan, young, naive and full of fear, was stuck in place as his eyes glanced at the attraction. Looking centuries old-- decrepit and striking more distress than any haunted house had ever given him-- the name ‘Tunnel of Love’ was a sickening contrast to its appearance.

Dan tried to speak, come up with some sort of excuse.

“I… _I don’t think_ \--”

The clown laughed at this, whether from cruelty or ignorance of the child’s plight… WELL, _Dan couldn’t say._ Still, it laughed, placing a hand on his arm as it escorted him closer to the ride.

“Oh, you’re worried about those dreaded cooties, aren’t you?” The creature bellowed, amusement still apparent. “ You don’t gotta go with anyone else to see the show. Here, let’s get you in the boat, shall we?”

It wouldn’t have been the only time a swan had been his downfall, but it was certainly the first as he was placed inside its body-- the boat instantly rocking from the addition of its passenger. Dan tried to climb out, even if it meant being knee deep in some of the nastiest water he had ever seen. Yet, before he could escape, the boat jut forward, the sounds of gear turning following it. 

Young Dan looked back towards land, where the clown waved at him.

“You have FUN now, ya here?”

The clown soon disappeared, as he was swallowed by the darkness. There wasn’t much else that he consciously remembered. Repressed memories blocking out whatever horrors he had seen. 

_All he remembered after was waking to the sounds of his own screams._

* * *

It was over a decade later, and Dan Mandel had returned to Silly Symphonies. He was different now, hardened. Filled with years of anger. As well as years of obsessing about the dratted carnival. How many cases had he read about? Five? Fifteen? In the end, did it _really_ matter? People of all ages, all genders, one day just vanishing from thin air. No other connection… except for the return of the carnival from hell.

Sometimes, after the nightmares, Dan would lie awake at night thinking about the place… Wondering why it wasn’t _him_ who had disappeared that day. A particularly nasty voice in his head would sometimes say even **they** didn’t want him; but that, too, would quickly get pushed down with every other emotion that wasn’t his passionate fury at the world.

Dan was no longer a child, no longer _vulnerable_ . He would never be pushed around by these heathens **EVER** again. 

_He’d make sure of_ **_that_ ** _._

It had been a while since Dan left Chris to his own devices, peeking through the bushes with camo war paint on his person. He watched, looking for any sign that would lead him to his next clue of where he should head towards next.

Finally he had spotted a couple of the cultists, laughing gaily to themselves at whatever clowns talked about. 

“Probably **puns,** _ugh_.”

Dan followed, sticking to his years of expertise in the art of trespassing, as he remained in the shadows-- hiding behind booths and tents they passed. It wasn’t long before the clowns had made it to the back entrance of a building. Dan didn’t need to see the sign hanging on the front to know where they were entering.

“ _The Tunnel of Love…_ ”

He should have known fate would lead him back here, he should have realized this place wasn’t going to let him go. He was the one who’d gotten away, presumably, and the two of them had a score to settle. Dan waited and watched as the two creatures opened the back door and disappeared inside.

He stood in front of that door for what felt like hours-- steeling his nerves-- but was likely only seconds. He slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers closing around the metal lighter they found there. Ah, fire. Forever a reliable source of comfort.

And cleansing. The confident notion that this place would burn to the ground whether Dan made it out alive or not calmed him completely, and he opened the door and slipped inside.

The space behind the actual Tunnel of Love track was large, and mostly empty. Well, he imagined it was usually mostly empty, perhaps even cavernous, but today it was packed with at least twenty, brightly and bizarrely dressed clowns. They milled around carrying little plastic cups, snacks, chatting quietly with one another. Was this some kind of party? No ... no, this was most likely one of their cult meetings. In broad daylight, no less! _Had they no_ **_shame_ ** _?_ Dan shuddered and slipped behind a pile of boxes to avoid detection.

Dan peered around the stack for surveillance, flinching when he stepped on something soft, pliable. He reluctantly glanced down and recoiled at the scalp he saw under his foot. Dan bent and picked up the bright orange, curly wig in between his thumb and forefinger, making a face as he squinted at it in the low light.

“ _Eugh! They’re_ **_molting_ ** ...” he muttered, tossing it away with a flick of his wrist, then wiping his hand on his pants. His blood turned to ice when a large, heavy hand came down upon his shoulder.

“‘Ey! You ain’t supposed t’be back here!”

Dan craned his neck around, and up, to see a towering, beefy clown with frizzy purple hair glaring down at him.

“I will have you know, sir, that I have every right to be here! I paid good money and I’m not leaving until--”

“Oh don’t you worry, little man.” Another heavy hand came down on Dan’s other shoulder. “I ain’t got no intention of lettin’ you leave.”

“‘I ain’t got no’? I guess they don’t bother teaching proper grammar in clown college-- **_hey_ ** _, watch it!_ ”

The thuggish clown began shoving Dan forward, and his struggle efforts increased tenfold when he realized he was being brought further into the room. Panic began to rise as each and every clown stopped what they were doing and turned to watch him, dozen upon dozens of beady eyes staring him down. A nightmare, this was a nightmare.

“ **_Unhand me you cannibalistic clown cultists_ **!” He cried out in pure rage-fueled defiance, struggling uselessly against his captor.

“Uh, what? Naw man, you’ve got us all wrong.”

Dan scowled at the scrawny clown in baggy spotted pants that had the nerve to address him.

“So you’re **_denying_ ** this is a cult?”

“Oh, no! Naw we’re _definitely_ a cult.” The clown glanced around at the other clowns, receiving murmuring and nods of confirmation. “But we’re not cannibals! We’re _vegans_.”

“ **_Vegans_ **?!” Dan shouted in horror. “Oh no ... this is worse than I thought! What are you sick freaks planning on doing with me?”

“Uhh.” The scrawny clown scratched the back of his neck, and shrugged. “I dunno, we’ll probably sacrifice you to our ancient pagan clown God or something.”

“Hey yeah! Let’s do that!” Another clown chimed in.

“ **_No one asked you_ ** !” Dan snapped back. “ But you’re _vegans_ !” Dan turned his attention back to the gangly clown who appeared to be their temporary ringleader. “Aren’t you guys **_against_ ** killing innocent creatures? Isn’t that your whole **_deal_ **?”

“Nah, bro. We’re against harming _animals_. Homo sapiens are fair game.”

Dan looked shocked and offended for a split second before his glare returned.

“ **What** did you call me! _Who told you?!_ ”

This, however, went ignored. Dan didn’t even have time to voice his anger-- in fact, he didn’t have time to voice _anything at all_ as a colorful polka dot handkerchief was forcefully placed over his face. The short man thrashed-- very much like a fish refusing to be caught-- fighting for his very survival. The more he struggled, the harsher his breathing became. It took a moment for Dan’s panicking brain to register the chemical smell. And a second more to put the pieces together: _he had been chloroformed like some sort of credulous chump!_

Dan’s last thought, his vision blurring before slipping into the darkness, was the cruel thought that **THIS** time he was wanted…

* * *

Chris had been having a good time with his new clown buddies. There was some sort of comfort in the idea of not being the most ridiculous looking guy in the room. He smiled, taking a sip of his soda, as a lovely lady clown was in the middle of her joke.

“And so I said to my wife: ‘ _If you’re worried about me, you should see the other guy_.’”

Chris, sensing a punch line, decided to ask: “What did you do to him?”

She smiled, her ponytails bouncing as she pulled something out from behind her back.

“I did what any sensible clown would do… _I creamed him!_ ”

This was followed by a pie being shoved right into Chris’ face. The others in the group laughed, even as the tin fell to the floor-- leaving Chris wearing a face mask of cream and crust. He dragged his thumb across his eyes, sticking it in his mouth. 

“ _Mmm!_ ” Chris hummed happily, going for another lick-- this time his right cheek. “I gotta say, Duckie, you make a mean banana cream pie.” A pause. “ _Can I have the recipe?_ ”

Duckie just smiled all the wider, her gap in her two front teeth even more evident.

“You bet your sweet patootie you can, Chuckles!” She was addressing Chris, as Dan’s snarking had been the only undercover name he could come up with at the time. Apparently it was a _very humorous_ name that contrasted the doleful expression he hadn’t known he was wearing. Duckie carried on, pulling up her sleeve as it showed a series of watches-- one for every time zone. 

It was then that her eyes opened wide in mild alarm.

“Shoot, that’ll have to be later, though. We’re almost late to the service!” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders as she and the other clowns began escorting him away from the break tent. 

Chris cocked his head at this.

“ _... Service?_ ” He said under his breath, confusion evident. He said nothing more as the others pushed him forward, his mind slipping towards thoughts of Dan. It was night already, the carnival no doubt closed for the evening. Man, where HAD the time gone? For a brief moment he wondered if Dan had just left him there-- it wouldn’t have been the first time, after all. WELL, at least this place was _much better_ than the time he was left at the bear exhibit at the zoo…

Chris licked his lips, taking in another taste of pie. And the carnival had snacks, too. Another plus.

Whatever jovial mood he was in didn’t last, as Chris noticed they were heading towards the ‘Tunnel of Love’. When the troop walked past the main entrance he sighed in relief, his sense of dread leaving him. Of course, it returned just as quickly as he realized they were heading towards the back of the building.

Chris, in his nervousness, opened his mouth to speak.

“So… about these services. I come from a different carnival, originally, and I… uh, I wanted to know if I needed to _bring_ something for the occasion.”

The clown to his right, a short older man by the name of Bim Bam snickered at his inquiry.

“ _Nono_ , it’s nothing like **that**. You needn’t bring anything special.”

Chris sighed, relieved.

“Thank goodness!”

“We already found someone for the occasion!”

It was then that Duckie opened the door and Chris heard a voice he recognized. Dan… he was screaming. Well, really more like yelling-- _but who was going to argue semantics?_

Whatever he was doing, it didn’t sound **GOOD**. 

“Saaay, fellas, one moment.” The tall man slipped out from Duckie’s arms, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly and he tried to come up with an excuse to escape. “So, uh, I think I may have had a bit too much soda. I need to go… _use the little clown’s room_. I’ll meet you guys later, okay?”

His lie seemed to work, as his new ‘ _friends_ ’ gave him a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, “ said Maggie May, nodding in understanding. “It’s the RC Josta. It’ll always getcha in the end.” The others laughed, some of them already heading inside. Maggie gave Chris a wink. “We’ll see ya inside, okay? Don’t be late!”

“Yeah… be seeing you.”

Chris’ smile slipped from his face, as the panic set in. Dan was right. _Of course he had been right._ He was USUALLY right! … Okay, not usually. But when it came to the more odder aspects of things, he certainly tended to be more correct with his assumptions than not. Oh, _why was he even arguing the details with himself?_ He was too busy losing it over the fact that he had not only made friends with a bunch of cultists, but cultists that had **DAN**!

“What am I gonna do? _What am I going to do?!”_ For a moment he considered calling Elise. She… she was usually really better at handling these situations (for a person who dealt with electronics for her profession). But as Chris heard Dan’s cries permeate the night air, it was then that he realized he had no time. If Chris was going to **DO** something, he would have to do it **NOW**.

_Alone._

* * *

Chris had followed the sound of his best friend yelling death threats at the top of his lungs, some of which so brutal they made his stomach roil, to the front of the ride itself. The doors were shut now, as the sun had gone down a while ago and the carnival had closed for the night. Yet, he could hear Dan’s cries from somewhere beyond them.

The control station had been left unmanned and unguarded, and Chris stood looking down at the simple panel that ran the ride. A push of a button and then doors swung open with a foreboding creaking sound, a push of a lever started the swan boats chugging along on their tracks. Chris smiled, pleased with himself for figuring this out on his own, but this was short lived as he realized the boats were leaving without him. He scurried out of the booth and took off toward the water leaping into one of the boats before it could get too far.

“ _Of course_ it had to be this. ... **_Why_** did it have to be this!?” Chris questioned aloud, pushing down dread and those uncomfortable memories that had never been his to remember, as the swan vessel made its way into the dark cave.

This was all familiar, though Chris couldn’t remember ever having been on this ride himself. The music, the singing wooden heart cutouts, it was all here, it was accurate. It was _too accurate_.

The enormous spider statue with the screaming man tied up in front of it was new, though. That was definitely new, and very out of place with the rest of the theme.

“Dan!” Chris awkwardly shimmied across the boat seat, leaping off the side and scrambling to climb up onto the shore.

“Chris?! You’ve been riding on rides while I’m up here about to be sacrificed to some horrible ancient clown God abomination?! Typical! _I knew I should have brought Mr. Mumbles along instead of you._..”

“ _Dan, shush_!” Chris hissed, looking up at his friend and wondering how he was supposed to get him down. Dan was suspended above by a metal chain that was wrapped around him from just below his shoulders all the way to just above his waist. His legs were free, kicking and flailing uselessly as Dan continued to struggle.

“ **Don’t you shush me, you traitorous** **_jerk_ ** **! Do you** **_know_ ** **what I’ve been through** ! I should **kick** you!” Dan’s struggling intensified then, making grunting noises as he tried in vain to reach Chris with his flailing feet. Eventually he gave up and he was still, panting for breath.

“Chris, kick yourself for me, would you?”

“Dan, stop it, I’m here to rescue you! You were _right_ , about **all** of it! ... Well, most of it, definitely the cult part, anyway.”

Dan grumbled from his suspended prison.

“And I was so **sure** they were cannibals; it made the most sense at the time, you know.”

“Dan, you can’t just assume people are eating each other.” Chris said as if he was explaining social cues to him for the first time. “ No normal person goes around thinking that sort of stuff about someone.”

The shorter man glared.

“Yeah, well, _no normal person assumes cultists are vegan,_ either!”

Chris gave Dan a pointed look.

“We live in L.A. Half the CITY is vegan.”

“ _And when will the madness_ **_END_ ** _?_ ”

Chris merely shook his head, as if dispersing his need to fall into his usual back and forth with his friend. While Chris wasn’t usually an argumentative person-- _or at least he didn’t THINK so_ \-- something about Dan just made him want to retort. _To make him see reason._

Unfortunately there wasn’t a moment to lose, their conversation on the matter would need to be discussed later. Preferably without either of them being **dead.**

“Shoot, I don’t think I can break you out of that Dan.”

The shorter man looked down at his chest to the best of his abilities.

“These guys know their stuff. I can’t even bend over to gnaw at the chains like I _usually_ would.” Chris hated the fact Dan had somehow sounded _impressed_ by this fact. Dan went on. “ You’re going to have to get bolt cutters, Chris.”

“And where am I supposed to get that at **THIS** time of night?” Chris asked, his fear turned to aggravation. “ _Ask the magic tool box fairy?_ ”

Dan glared down at his friend, his annoyance with Chris’ sass overpowering everything else.

“From the trunk of your **car** , _you poor excuse of a meat locker_. I always stash things I think I might need for safe keeping.”

“That’s… actually pretty smart, Dan.”

“And you act surprised, **WHY**?”

Dan’s question went ignored, as Chris called back up to him.

“Alright, I’m going to run to the car and get it. You just… hang in there.”

“ _Don’t you pun at_ **_ME_ ** _, sir!_ ” The goblin of a man yelled back. “And go on, already. These freaks are almost done with their pre-slaughter soiree!”

Chris didn’t need to be told twice, as he made a mad dash out of the room-- knees reaching his waist as he put all the energy he could muster into getting to his car. Dan merely watched him, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Mister Mumbles would have been back by now, “ he griped, “ _and been way cuter about it, too…_ ”

Alas, Dan didn’t get to think over his poor judgement in who he teamed up with. As it was in that moment the big double doors at the end of the connected hall groaned open. And still laughing amongst themselves, the sea of clown cultists made their way inside-- filling the room.

* * *

Chris found his trunk so full of various things, he was both frustrated and befuddled as to how he nor Elise had ever known it was here. But the bolt cutters were easily spotted, and Chris decided to worry about that later-- grabbing what he needed and being careful to avoid and ignore the ball gag he glimpsed amongst the other items.

He was out of breath by the time he got back, and his heart sank when he saw the mass of clowns crowded around Dan now. The chains had been lowered considerably, presumably to silence Dan, as now his friend had duct tape covering his mouth,

“Ah, Chuckles, there you are! Didja get lost, you almost missed it!” Duckie grinned at him, pulling him along to join the crowd, seemingly completely unfazed by the fact he was carrying a sizable pair of bolt cutters.

“Aheh heh ... yeah...” Chris, he supposed thankful he was still somehow blending in, watched with the rest of them as his mind raced for ideas. _What now?_

The murmuring crowd grew silent when a man dressed as both a clown and a ringleader entered and stood between the crowd and their sacrifice.

“Loyal subjects, fellow mirth enthusiasts ... it is time once again to pay our respects to our beloved Mother. To wake her, to bring her to our world for her yearly feeding.”

Chris frowned while the rest of them clapped.

“Only our laughter can wake her!” The man pulled out a rubber chicken, and Chris winced when he walloped Dan across the face with it. “So let us laugh!”

And to Chris’ horror, they did. Mostly snickering and chuckling for now, but Chris felt they were only getting started.

“Aw c’mon guys, that looked like it hurt...” Chris muttered, but he went either ignored or unheard.

“Awake, Mother! We bring you our gaiety!” A creme pie was brought out, and promptly shoved into Dan’s face. The cultists’ chuckling grew, now more closely resembling laughter. “Our mirth!” A pressurized bottle of seltzer water was handed to him, and he used it to spray Dan in the face with it, washing away the pie residue. Now with Dan’s face clear, Chris could see it a dark red hue. Except it wasn’t from humiliation, oh no. Chris knew that look. That was the look Dan got right before he had to be pulled off of someone, and occasionally, muzzled.

 _Dan was_ **_furious_ ** _._

And no one seemed to care nor take notice. Their laughter grew in volume and intensity, and as it did, a low rumbling began to echo off the cavernous walls of the tunnel. Low rumbling, in Chris’ experience, rarely signified good things.

“Yes! She has heard us! But she needs more! She is not yet strong enough ...”

The ringleader stepped around and behind their hanging prisoner, and Chris winced again, shielding his eyes with an averted gaze and a hand when Dan’s pants were yanked down to his ankles.

“Yikes ... at least he thought to wear underwear today ...” Chris mumbled. But he could have said it loud and clear if he’d wanted to, as the crowd was absolutely roaring with laughter now. Chris reluctantly turned his sad gaze back up to Dan ... to see Dan was no longer furious. There was a different expression there now, a look in his eyes Chris had only seen a few times before. A look of devastated vulnerability, a look of raw hurt and fear. A look that broke Chris’ heart.

“Stop it ... stop laughing!” Chris demanded, but he was drowned out by the wild cackling. “Can’t you see he’s suffering! Don’t you think this has gone a little far?” The laughter didn’t falter in the slightest.

“ **_I said stop it_ **!” Chris roared, suddenly overtaken with indignant rage, for his friend, and for the lack of common decency these people displayed. The laughter stopped then, swallowed up by a unanimous gasp that rose up, all eyes suddenly on Chris.

Chris realized with dawning panic that it hadn’t been his words that had garnered this level of undivided attention, but the clown he’d knocked out cold with a swift punch to the face. Now that his anger had cooled off a little, he was able to feel the throbbing pain in his hand.

“ _Ow._..” He whimpered as he held it against himself, eyes darting nervously around at the room full of offended cultists.

It was the ringleader who found his voice first: a thunderous boom that echoed off the ancient wooden walls.

“An intruder has infiltrated our sanctum! _Don’t let him_ **_escape!_ **”

And like a wave crashing violently to the shore, the horde came upon him.

It would be the **last** thing Chris remembered until the end…


	3. Chris VS. the Bitter End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan watches the destruction that unfolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence TW: though it shouldn't be TOO bad. Death mention, spiders...
> 
> This fic just goes all sorts of places, doesn't it?

There was nothing better to bring one out of reliving half repressed traumatic memories of being laughed at in your underwear than seeing your best friend punch a clown in the face. Dan experienced an immediate bolt of excited adrenaline from the sudden violence, that fizzled out into that sickening fluttering feeling he’d grown to resent.

It was a sort of resigned relief, rather than worry or panic, that befell Dan as he watched Chris be engulfed by the swarming clown cultists. He could handle the death of his best friend, had, in fact, imagined countless ways it could and one day would happen, he was ready for it. It was only after seeing the swarm be pushed back as Chris fought back with flying fists and a lot of determination that Dan began to think that maybe, just maybe, they’d make it out of this nightmare alive.

Chris stopped using his fists after remembering he still held the bolt cutters, and was now swinging them around himself in wide arcs. This had definitely proven effective at keeping the clowns at a distance, and knocking out those bold enough not to back away.

_ “Hurting people isn’t funny! _ ” Chris cried out.  **“It’s! Just!** **_Mean_ ** **!** ” He punctuated each word with another hearty swing of his makeshift weapon.

The moment Dan saw a tooth fly out a clown’s mouth, he had to shut his eyes so as to not get TOO excited while his pants were still dangling from his ankles.

Dan’s eyes shot open, however, as a boisterous bellow erupted from the ringleader.

“You dare tell  **ME** what comedy is,  **boy** ? Entering our house of worship without making a  **single** joke?” The ringleader ranted, even as Chris continued his rampage. This angered the old man more. “This is nothing but  **vulgar violence** !  _ Where’s the punchline?! _ ”

Chris Pearson, finishing knocking down a row of cultists as if they were a row of dominoes, set his furrowed gaze onto the ringleader. Having no other adversaries-- and hating the fact he was  _ (quite literally) _ standing between him rescuing  _ his _ Dan. Chris charged.

“ _ Here’s your  _ **_punchline_ ** _ , pal _ !”

Even Dan was shocked to see the man went flying, instantly knocking the ringleader out as he collided with the statue of their pagan god.

Dan’s eyes made their way back to Chris, as the taller man panted. Make-up smeared, wig and bowler hat long since lost in the process of pummeling every clown in the corrupted chapel…  _ He could honestly say he had never felt more drawn to Chris than  _ **_that_ ** _ single moment. _

It would have been  **sad** , if it weren’t for the fact his computer had housed stranger sights.

Dan watched as Chris made his way closer to the hanged man, hand raised as he reached out to touch his face. The stroke on his cheek turned demented dreams into sickenly sweet sentiments of affection. Of course, this was taken from him as pain hit his system-- Chris ripping off the duct tape from his mouth in one fell swoop. 

Chris expected a torrent of rude expletives to come pouring out of Dan’s mouth after that, but instead he was met with a sound that shocked and grounded him instantly.

“Did you just  _ moan _ ?” He asked, incredulously.

“ **_No._ ** Don’t make this  _ weird, _ Chris, just get me  **_down_ ** from here!”

“No, ‘thanks for saving my life, Chris!’, or anything, huh?” Chris sighed, reaching the bolt cutters up to slice through the chains holding his friend suspended. Dan fell to the floor with an ‘ _ Oof’. _

“Actually, Chris, I  **do** have something I want to say.” Dan replied, wiggling and yanking himself free of the chains before standing up, and pulling his pants back up.

“Yeah?” Chris asked, part hopefully and part hesitantly. And cried out a moment later when Dan kicked him hard in the shin. “ **_Ow_ ** ! What was  **_that_ ** for!”

“For taking so long. Also for disobeying my orders to kick yourself earlier. My threats  **_are not_ ** to be taken lightly, Chris.”

Chris grit his teeth and scowled back at Dan, and for a moment it looked as if he might pounce, fueled by a lingering rage high. But he didn’t get the chance, as the rumbling from earlier began again, and the two of them turned to see the statue shift and begin to crumble.

“Well that can’t be good.” Chris croaked.

The stone idol shifted again and then toppled forward, Dan and Chris both wincing as it fell atop the still unconscious ringleader. His death was not given time to be mourned, however, as enormous black claw-like spider legs emerged from the dark abyss that lay behind where the statue had been, hooking around the entrance for purchase. They watched in horror as a gigantic arachnid pulled itself from the hole, six red eyes shining and venom dripping messily from its fangs.

“ _ Really _ ?!” Dan shouted at the monster, gesturing to it with an outstretched hand. “They were  **literally** worshiping  **_a giant spider_ ** ?! I just  _ assumed  _ the statue was some cheap Halloween decoration!”

“Uh, Dan, we should really get out of here...” Chris warned, grabbing Dan’s arm and pulling him away as the place began to rumble and shake more, support beams cracking and the ceiling buckling as the spider clawed its way toward them.

“No! I’m not  **done** yet, I am  **_upset_ ** !” Dan yanked his arm away and took another step toward the spider. “What do spiders even  **_have to do_ ** with clowns!” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his trusty lighter, flicking it open and setting it alight with a stroke of his thumb. The spider chittered, the flame reflecting in its beady eyes.

“ **You** , sir or ma’am,  **are a fraud** !” Dan chucked the lighter at the beast, and it screamed as it was set ablaze. Dan grinned a horrible, impish grin and he stood and watched, transfixed and delighted by the dancing flames.

Chris pulled his small friend out of the way just in time to avoid the flaming, scythe-like spider leg that crashed down where he’d been standing seconds before. Dan didn’t fight him this time as they fled, but froze up when they reached the river, the swan boats still riding through on their tracks.

“I’m not getting in that thing, Chris.” Dan told him, firmly stubborn on the matter. Chris understood his trepidation, but they didn’t have time for this.

“Oh yes you are.” Chris simply picked up his friend and dropped him into the boat, before jumping in after.

For a moment Chris had been worried that the boat wouldn’t be fast enough, as the swan was slowly pulled down the submerged track. Yet, after mere seconds of getting inside their vessel, both men jolted in their seats as a shrill alien sounding quaver echoed off the ride’s walls. By the time Dan and Chris looked over the back seat of the swan boat, the Spider God had clambered out fully from the burrow of its statue-- splashing into the river. The momentum of the action caused the water to rush forward, violently rocking the boat. 

For a split second Chris had thought this would be their end. ( _ However was anybody going to explain  _ **_THIS_ ** _ to his wife? Would there be anything  _ **_left_ ** _ of him at all? _ ) Yet, it was with the sound of rusted metal snapping that these thoughts vanished-- the boat thrusting forward and away from the hideous beast.

Dan and Chris clung to each other, screaming all the while as they left the illuminated shrine and plunged into the tunnel’s darkness. 

The terrible warble of the creature sounded again, the river rumbling and rocking the boat like a canoe through a series of rapids. The Spider hadn’t given up on its prey:  _ it would feast on the squirming remains of the ones who dared to interrupt its ritual! _

The Arachnid bulldozed its way forward, every part of its body crashing into the decrepit walls. The building shook, and all around them Dan and Chris could hear the sounds of wood splintering off and splashing into the water. 

It was Chris who cried out, realizing what was happening.

“It’s tearing the place apart!  _ What are we going to  _ **_DO_ ** _ , Dan? _ ”

_ “We’re going to  _ **_die_ ** _ , I thought that was pretty  _ **_obvious_ ** _! _ ” Dan shouted back over the roaring water and screaming arachnid. Chris’ frightened embrace suddenly grew so tight Dan was finding it difficult to breathe.

**_“But I don’t want to die!_ ** ” Chris wailed.

A melancholic calm came over Dan in that moment, as holding his best friend in the dark brought back memories of guilty, forbidden desires. If they were about to die, then so be it. Dan’s own embrace tightened only slightly as he shut his eyes and nuzzled the side of his face against Chris’ chest.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” Dan muttered, his apology meant for so much more than just getting him killed.

Chris, meanwhile, heard nor noticed any of this, as he was busy screaming in a dizzying panic. This screaming trailed off and he squinted when he noticed the quickly approaching purple light at the end of the long dark tunnel.

“Dan! It’s the exit! I think we’re gonna make it!”

“Hm? Oh. That’s good.”

The swan boat sped toward the exit, lit only by the darkening sky beyond it. They burst through the doorway, their ride, no longer on its track, striking the corner on the first turn just outside and flipping up over the side. Its occupants resumed their screaming as they were tossed out, landing roughly and tumbling across the ground. They both flinched and threw their hands over their heads to shield themselves from debris when the swan boat flew overhead and collided with the rock face behind them, shattering.

The beast let out another alien screech, and they looked up to see four giant spider legs sticking out of the ride exit door, scrambling for purchase. It was too big to fit through. Chris and Dan got to their feet and continued to watch as the building collapsed. There was one more scream and the legs stilled, twitching only slightly at irregular intervals.

Both men starred, letting the silence settle around them-- a passing fear that if they disturbed the moment, the thing might wake once more.

As per usual, it was Dan that disrupted the peace.

“ **HA!** Take  **THAT** ,  _ you overgrown murderous mite! _ ” The shorter man barked out another laugh, feeling more victorious with every second passed. “You couldn’t have me  **then** , and you  _ sure as heck _ aren’t getting a piece of me  **NOW!”**

Chris, meanwhile, looked worried as he began to recall the people they had left inside the wreckage.

“We  **really** ought to call someone…”

“ _ Chris _ ,” Dan whined, “why must you  _ ruin things _ with that easily triggered conscience of yours?”

“People might be seriously HURT, Dan” The taller man argued back.

“You weren’t thinking about that while you were busy smacking them across the face with the bolt cutters, now **WERE** you?”

“I panicked!” 

“ _ Excuses, excuses _ .” Dan tutted, but still pulled out his cell phone all the same. “ STILL, it WOULD be nice getting to shove this in law and order’s face for a change.”

And it was with this thought that he pressed in the digits to 911, getting the friendly voice of an operated on the line.

“Yes, hello ma’am, I require the services of your finest ambulances--  _ if you would be so inclined. _ ”

The woman sounded concerned.

“Is… everything okay, sir?”

“Oh,  _ I’m perfectly fine _ .” Dan chirped cheerfully, feeling good about all that had happened. “But I can’t say the same for _ them _ .”

“... We’ll send someone to your location right away.”

“ _ Please and thank you _ ,” He was just about to hang up when another thought occurred to him. “Oh, and you may want to send the police. And the local news stations! Tell them: Silly Symphony’s secrets have been cracked WIDE OPEN!”

* * *

Surprisingly, there had been very few casualties in the whole, Funhouse Fiasco (as the news reporters were erroneously calling it), and despite everything, Chris was relieved to see Duckie, Maggie May, Bim Bam. and Robert, along with a number of other familiar faces make it out alive and relatively well.

He hadn’t relished the distrustful, betrayed glances a few of them threw him, though. Those hurt.

He’d been half-listening to his very animated friend gushing about and recounting their adventure from the passenger seat on the car ride back to Dan’s place, and Chris found himself wondering how his friend still had that much energy after everything they’d been through that day. He somewhat got his answer when they pulled up in front of Dan’s apartment, and his excitable friend yawned loudly and stretched before reaching for the door handle.

“Welp! I’m beat. G’night, Chris.”

“Dan, wait.”

Dan did wait, saying nothing but looking back over his shoulder, raising a brow, expectantly.

“Hey uh. Do you think maybe you might, I dunno, take a break from the whole, revenge thing?” The dangerous glare this earned him made him add quickly, “Just for a little while! A month or two, tops.”

Dan turned back to him, his silent staring unnerving. Finally he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

“Let me guess, you and Elise planned another impromptu vacation you forgot to invite me on, and you’re worried about missing out while you’re gone.”

“What? No! And besides, our vacations are never,  _ impromptu _ , we plan them for weeks or months ahead of time.  **You** just block me out every time I tell you about them!”

“Huh? Oh, were you saying something?”

“Dan, could you  **please** be a **decent human being** for  _ five minutes _ ! I just don’t want to  **lose** you, okay? This is the  _ second time _ in  _ four months  _ you’ve almost  **_died,_ ** and ...” Chris’ steam ran out here, and the rest was muttered in an exhausted, whining tone. “and it’s just really stressful, okay?”

Dan averted his eyes, instead turning to stare at the dashboard, brows furrowed in contemplative confusion.

“Chris ... we almost die  _ all the time _ . Remember that time me and Elise almost froze to death while  **you** were almost eaten by a family of cannibals?”

“Uh...”

“Or that time you were eaten by a dinosaur?”

“I try not to, Dan...” Chris didn’t like the grin Dan wore as he recounted these terrible memories.

“And let’s not forget the time we were almost cut to pieces by that chainsaw-wielding maniac. Oh! Or the time,  _ hehe _ ! Or the time you and I tried murdering  **_each other_ ** in a battle to the death? Oh, good times, buddy,  _ good times _ .”

“No, no they  **weren’t** , actually.” Chris took off the wig he had been wearing all afternoon, doing his best to hold back the sigh he felt was very much deserved. “How can you be  **okay** with this? With… with putting yourself in harm’s way all the time?”

Dan stared at the man at the wheel-- yet again that look of vulnerability crossing his features. He flinched away, looking out the window and towards his apartment that could have just as easily been his escape. Chris could see that Dan was seriously contemplating it, fingers twitching as they edged towards the handle of the door. And just when Chris figured this would be yet another unfinished conversation, lost and forgotten to all but  **him** … Dan surprised him when his hand dropped away from the handle, falling listlessly to his side.

“Does it really matter, Chris?” His voice was low, almost robotic with it’s monotone. “It’s the only thing I have going here. I’ve lost friends,  _ my family sure as heck never cared about me _ . Nobody will care when I’m gone, and I’m  **OKAY** with that.  _ That’s just reality. _ ”

Dan opened the car door, getting ready to leave, when he was stopped by Chris grabbing his wrist. The shorter man was ready to start swinging, to fight off his capture, when Chris finally spoke.

“ _ I’d care. _ I’m not ready for us to part ways quite yet.”

Dan paused, looking from Chris to the hand still gripping his wrist. The shorter man suddenly lost years on his face, anger melting away. For a moment, Chris could see the strange kid he had met at summer camp all those years ago.

“... It would be easier for you, you know.” Dan finally mumbled. “No more crazed adventures, no more being pushed around without even the slightest bit of gratitude--  _ might I remind you _ .” 

His voice grew softer, as he finally finished his argument.

“You’d be  **happier,** Chris, I can  **guarantee** that.”

Chris gaped at Dan, terrified and unable to believe what he was hearing. This was Dan, a guy he’d known since early childhood, a man with an unshakable sense of indignant self-worth. Chris had never known anyone who thought higher of themselves. Had it all been a lie, a ruse?

Or was his best friend being slowly worn down by the demon that lived in his head and no doubt whispered lies to him all night as he slept?

“How could you  **_say_ ** that? After everything we’ve  **been** through? Sure, life would be  _ easier _ , but  _ happier _ ? I’d  _ miss _ you, Dan, I’d miss you a lot.”

Chris watched as something shifted in Dan’s expression then, and it felt a lot like a door had just been slammed in his face as Dan grinned and shrugged.

“Well, luckily for you then, you’ll never get the chance to find out. Because when I die, I’m going to haunt you forever! Won’t that be fun?”

Dan yanked his wrist free and Chris let him, expression still sorrowful as his friend opened the door and slid out. Dan peeked his head back in to add,

“G’night, sweet dreams, buddy.” In a half sing-song tone that read more like a death threat than genuine friendliness. Chris sat there and watched until Dan disappeared into his apartment. Then he slumped against his steering wheel with a tired, defeated sigh.

“Everything has to be so darn difficult with you, doesn’t it?” He muttered to the empty car, before pulling away and heading home. Chris had been able to turn his brain off as he drove the familiar route, pulling into his driveway. Grabbing the sweaty wig from out of his car, so as to not be scared by the reminder of his day later, Chris made the short trek to his door.

He was both surprised and relieved to see Elise was still up-- sitting on the couch as she read some book in a language he didn’t recognize. At the sound of the door closing she looked up, closing her book as she took in the sight of her husband.

“Long day, Chris?” She asked, patting the seat next to her on the sofa. Chris, forever grateful to be married to the world’s most understanding woman, plopped down next to her.

“You have no idea.” He grumbled, closing his eyes and he sunk into the couch-- laying his head on Elise’s shoulder. (Elise saw the paint that was still on Chris’ face get on her sleeve. She felt no need to address it.) Chris went on. “Dan was right. About the clowns.”

Elise raised a brow at this.

“You don’t say.” A pause. “So is it safe to assume you guys found all this out by playing dress up and going undercover?”

Chris opened his eyes, jolting up as he looked at his wife in shock.

“How did you  **know** ?”

“ _ Lucky guess. _ ” She shook her head, her husband could be so easy to read sometimes. It helped that her police scanner had picked up strange activity over at Silly Symphonies. Some days it felt like half of what she heard from that thing was from Dan related activities. She gave Chris a sympathetic look. “Want to talk about it? You look more stressed than usual.”

“Yeah, a little...” Chris replied, sheepishly, and collapsed back onto the couch next to his wife. For the next fifteen minutes, Elise rubbed her tired husband’s back as he recounted his day, most of which she actually believed.

“And then my new friends were all angry at me, and Robert’s going to be in the hospital when he and his wife are expecting a baby soon, and ... and I think Dan might be suicidal.”

Chris’ story dropped off suddenly there, and Elise blinked, brows furrowed.

“Wait, what was that? ... Chris, honey, look at me.” Elise tipped his head up to face her, and she smiled warmly at him as he stared back at her with tired, sorrowful eyes.

“I don’t know who Robert is, but I’m sure he’ll be  _ fine _ . And Dan? Dan  **_is not_ ** suicidal. He’s the most self-centered guy I know.”

“That’s what  **_I_ ** thought!” Chris croaked. “I thought for sure his reckless abandon had something to do with an overabundance of self confidence and righteous fury, but we had a talk in the car, and--”

“Wait, hold on, you got  **_Dan_ ** to talk about his  **_feelings_ ** ?”

“Yeah! I mean, for a little while. ... He doesn’t think anyone would miss him if he was gone, Elise.”

“Aw...” Elise wrapped her arms around Chris, and he gladly leaned into the affection. “And that really upsets you, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does! ... I mean, shouldn’t it? ... I don’t know. My head’s been all messed up ever since I found out about the ...  _ you know _ .”

“About Dan harboring feelings pretty much since the day he met you?” Elise retorted, simply repeating everything. “Hard to forget when you finally found the missing piece of the puzzle.”

Chris frowned.

“It hasn’t been since the day we  **met** . Don’t exaggerate the situation anymore than it already is.”

Elise gave her husband a pointed look.

“He talks about the trauma he went through at summer camp as  _ nostalgia _ , Chris.  **Clearly** he thinks you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.” In a way, she had to agree. Still, she decided to spare the debate on the matter by getting them both on track. “Are you  **sure** you’re not just projecting onto him a little, sweetie? You’ve been fighting back against Dan’s schemes less than usual-- practically jump to your feet whenever he calls, now...”

“Oh, I  **do not** .” Chris said defensively. His glare instantly dropped as he gave his wife a curious look. “ _... Have I  _ **_really_ ** _? _ ”

“You have.” She wrapped her arm around him, bringing his head to her chest-- running her fingers through his hair to soothe him. “It’s  _ perfectly reasonable _ behavior. You faced the possibility of losing him, and now you have to deal with the reality that you can’t always keep Dan out of trouble. Plus there’s the fact you’re probably feeling guilty about not believing Dan about his ghost troubles.”

“He hadn’t been  **SLEEPING** , Elise.” Again, Chris was on the defense. Elise merely smiled at this, laying her own head on top of his.

“I know. I wasn’t accusing you, honey. I didn’t have much faith in what he was saying, either. Just trying to help you work through some of these feelings. Do you think I’m  **wrong** ?”

Chris shook his head.

“No. You’re right. At least… at least about that part.”

“There’s  _ more? _ ” Elise asked curiously. She watched as the man wormed his way out of the comfort of her embrace.

“Yes.  **No** \-- you know,  _ I don’t actually know. _ ” The day was catching up to him, and Chris looked beyond drained as his shoulders slumped. “ I just can’t stop  **thinking** about Dan’s dreams…”

“The, ones where he’s kissing you? Yeah, I could see why that would be upsetting. ... Should I set you an appointment with a good therapist, honey?”

“No...” Chris shook his head slowly. “It isn’t.  _ Upsetting, _ so much as ... confusing? It, it’s dark in the dream, I can’t  **see** much, and the physical stuff is mostly numb, but the  **emotions** , Elise, they’re just so  _ raw _ and  _ powerful  _ and ... and  _ warm _ . I didn’t know Dan had the capability to  **feel** anything that strongly. ... Except for his usual rage and hatred, I mean.”

“And so you can’t stop thinking about it because ... it’s  _ confusing _ ?”

“...I guess so? Oh, _ I don’t know _ !” Chris cradled his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I think I’m just tired. Let me go wash this gunk off my face so we can go to bed.”

Elise watched her husband get up from the couch and head towards the bathroom, brow furrowed in thought. She tapped her hands on her book, letting her fingers caress the lettering of the Russian text. Dancing Shadow would finish her debriefing tomorrow, Elise-- loving wife and  _ totally not a spy _ \-- was needed presently.

Making her way into the bedroom, Elise could hear the sound of the shower through the walls. That gave her plenty of time to get dressed and climb into bed. By the time Chris left the shower and entered their bedroom, she was ready to pounce.

“So, about these confusing feelings…”

Chris did a double take, nearly tripping as he was one leg into his footie pajamas.

“You’re still thinking about that?” The man asked, more surprised than anything else. Elise tapped her chin in contemplation as he continued to get dressed.

“I just can’t help but feel that maybe there’s  **more** to why you’re feeling that way. Sure, it can be strange to find out your best friend wants to canoodle-”

“ _ Must you say it that way? _ ” Chris whined, pouting as he got under the covers. Elise, meanwhile, didn’t seem phased as she continued her thoughts.

“But you tend to be very open about other’s lifestyles-- I can’t imagine you’re feeling uncomfortable by that aspect. So it has to be something a bit more.” 

She eyed her husband, raising a brow as she decided to go for broke as she said what was on her mind purely to gage his reaction.

“Chris… Did you  **enjoy** being on the receiving end of Dan’s desires? Is  **THAT** why you feel confused?”

“ **_No_ ** !” Chris spat back, perhaps too quickly. “I mean,  _ yeah, _ maybe it’s a _l_ _ ittle  _ flattering, but ...” Chris glanced away bashfully, scratching his head distractedly.

“I meant more,  _ during _ , the dream, Chris. Were you enjoying yourself  _ then _ ?”

“Well I  _ was _ , but I wasn’t  **me** , it’s  _ Dan’s  _ dream, those were  **his** emotions I was feeling, I-- “

A wave of confused guilt washed over Chris then, and he turned wide, worried eyes onto his wife, suddenly realizing what she was suggesting.

“Elise _ , I love you. _ ” He reached out, grasping her shoulders and staring at her, searching her face as his panic rose. “ **Please** tell me you know that, I love you, Elise,  _ my gorgeous wife, _ who I married because I love you with all my heart.”

Elise squinted her eyes and smiled at Chris, placing a hand on the hand on her shoulder and patting it.

“I know you love me, Chris, and I love you. But, I also had a _ feeling _ I’d end up having to share you eventually on our wedding day when Dan drunkenly threatened to kill me if I broke your heart.”

“Wait, he **_said_ ** that?”

“He did. Granted, I assumed it would come in the form of us adopting a grown man as our son or a,  _ weird pet  _ who occasionally piddles on the carpet, but eh. This works, too.”

“Works? What  **_works_ ** ! Elise, why are you **doing** this, I do not want to...  _ canoodle  _ with  **Dan** !”

“ _ I know, I know, shhh, no one’s accusing you of anything, honey, I  _ **_promise_ ** _... _ ” Elise cooed at her husband like she was calming a nervous puppy, and it was working, Chris’ stress levels stabilized as she took his head in her hands and stroked the sides of his face with her thumbs.

“I’m just saying, _hypothetically,_ if you **did** want to get frisky with Dan ...” She reached up to press her lips to his briefly. “I’d be okay with it.”

It was a strange situation, feeling both delighted in his wife’s affections while Chris was equally conflicted with her words. Coming home he didn’t expect to be told that he had permission to expand his relationship with his best friend. A wave of embarrassment washed over him at the very fact they were even having this conversation to begin with.

“I…” Chris swallowed down his dread, deciding it was far too late to actually deal with any of this. “Thank you, hun; but if it’s okay with you… I think I’d like time to…  _ to think this over. _ ”

Elise gave him that sympathetic look of understanding, which somehow made the feelings within him twist and turn in his gut even more.

“Okay, Chris. Good night then.”

“Yeah… good night.”

Elise turned off the light while her husband rolled over onto his side. Eyes still open as he stared straight ahead at their bedroom door, his tense muscles only began to relax once his wife’s hands slipped through his arms and cradled him against her. 

Chris smiled despite the anxiety, closing his eyes as he felt the need to reassure his love once more.

“I  **do** love you, Elise.  _ So much. _ ”

Chris could feel her breath against his ear, a low purr meant just for him.

“I love you too.  _ Nothing will ever change that. _ ”

That was all Chris needed to hear, his mind finally relinquishing its hold on the waking world. He still had his loving wife, Dan was safe from the own chaos he submitted himself to. He wasn’t going to lose **anything.**


	4. Dan VS. the Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While out and about for his weekly meetup with Dan, Chris sees an opening and decides to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food tw. But by this point you should maybe expect it.
> 
> Also, seen some controversy about the age of Hortence. For the sake of this fic, please know that we see her as having been in her early 20's during the Burgerphile and Wedding episodes.

If Chris Pearson had to describe heaven on earth, every word uttered from his mouth would most likely describe his favorite fast-food establishment: Burgerphile. With its welcoming retro interior, to its accessible affordability-- there were many reasons for him to love the place. 

Yet, to anyone who knew him… they would know the comfort came from the fact he and his best friend had been eating there at least once a week since their high school days.

Dan and Chris sat in their usual spot-- a booth overlooking the street. It wasn’t the most scenic view, in fact once Chris had the unfortunate situation of seeing a drunken man use the restroom from outside said window. But to THEM it was their claim to the place. Down to the very last detail of the shorter man having written his name on the table.

Dan was in the middle of eating his hamburger-- **no cheese** , thus a single classic-- as Chris was busy telling him the latest news he had heard while he was at the clown babyshower.

“And best of all,” Chris said excitedly, eyes lit up with relief, “ Robert said he’s getting out of having to serve jail time. Since he never saw any of the rituals-- you would have, uh, _been his first_ \-- he isn’t having any charges placed on him. You know what that **means** , Dan?”

Dan was busy chewing, thus not able to give any sassy remarks. So Chris took the opportunity to continue.

“Robert’s going to be around when the baby’s born!”

Dan exhaled from his nose, wiping his mouth on the backside of his hand as he swallowed.

“I don’t know **WHY** you care so much. Don’t you always go on about how much you hate kids?”

“C’mon, Dan, I don’t **HATE** kids.” Scared of them, sure. But he didn’t HATE them. The shorter man mostly ignored this as he went on with his points.

“And **FURTHERMORE** : you _know_ the more you talk about this sort of stuff, you’re just going to put _ideas_ in Elise’s head. You know how she wants them-- and not even for the reasons people **SHOULD** want kids!”

He was, of course, referring to when he had tried to adopt a kid of his own. Having wanted to do so out of spite, and to show some hippie parents the PROPER way of child raising. It was surprising to Chris to think about those times and how-- despite having some very out there ideas when it came to behavioral correction-- he had been… _tender_ with Dennis.

You know, **for DAN**.

“She’ll get kids ... one day, eventually ... _probably.._.” Chris sounded more and more unsure of that the longer he went on, his words no more than mumbling by the end before he trailed off, sipping his drink loudly. Other than the obnoxious sound his mostly empty cup made as he slurped the straw, a silence had fallen between them, and his eyes began to wander.

He coughed and choked on the remnants of his beverage when they happened upon a framed photo above the checkout, depicting a happy looking, and apparently newly married, Hortence and Mr. Burger.

Apparently catching his reaction, Dan raised a brow and turned to see what had elicited it.

“Uh, wait, Dan don’t--” He was too late, Chris’ hand still suspended across the table as if he’d planned on physically stopping Dan from turning around. He steeled himself for the explosion of fury that was incoming.

Dan turned back around with a shrug. “Meh, good for them.” He stuffed the last bite of his burger into his mouth and balled up the wrapper. And Chris stared.

“... _Good for them_ ? For real, you’re not _upset_ ? You _jumped out of an airplane_ to stop their wedding the first time, and now you’re _happy_ for them?”

“I don’t really **do** _happy_ , but yeah, it is what it is.”

Dan’s burger wrapper bounced off of Chris’ face and Chris watched his friend slip out of the booth.

“Now hurry up, let’s go. There’s somewhere else we need to be.”

Well, at least **this** was still in character: Dan walking away and leaving **HIM** with the mess. Chris gathered up the remnants of their lunch, quickly scurrying to the trash bin before his friend could start complaining that he was taking too long. Chris left the restaurant in record time-- heading towards where he parked the car by the street meter. Dan was leaning against the side of the passenger door. He seemed to perk up some at the sight of the taller man-- Chris only half noticing as he fumbled in his pockets to find his keys.

Chris reached the driver side of the vehicle, when he nearly dropped his keyring. Dan was no longer next to the car, as he was walking off in a completely different direction down the street.

“Wait, Dan” Chris cried out, pointing to the car. “I thought you wanted to go home?”

At this, his friend shrugged.

“Eh, it’s a nice day. We don’t get those often. C’mon, Chris, we’re heading to the park.” Chris had to strain his ears to hear Dan grumble out a ‘ _might as well use the thing the government steals my taxes for._ ’

“Ummm ... oh, kay?” Chris stuffed his keys back into his pocket and sprinted to catch up. The two walked in silence in the bright summer sun, and it was nice, but there was an unspoken heaviness hanging in the air that Chris didn’t quite care for. Street lights and fire hydrants eventually gave way to trees and park benches, and Chris realized with guilty trepidation that there was nowhere for Dan to run out here, no doors to slam in his face.

It was worth another try, anything to rid them of this silence.

“Hey Dan, I’ve been thinking. About, us and well, you, mostly, and your feelings, for me. We never really talked about that, and quite honestly I have, so many questions.”

Well, that had been a disaster, he really could have worded that better, been more discreet about it.

“What’s there to talk about? Trust me, I’m **just** as baffled as you are.” Dan replied, coolly, turning to lean his back against a nearby tree. “And you **apparently** _know everything I know_ , so what questions could you _possibly_ have, Chris?”

Wait, what? Nervous excitement rose up in Chris’ mind then, was this really the opening he’d been hoping for? Was Dan _actually_ offering to answer his questions?

“Well I mean, for starters, how long have you felt this way? Elise seems to think it started the day we met, back at summer camp, but I don’t know, that seems a little unlikely. And, and have you _always_ liked men, or, was I the first? Not that it matters, I just.” Chris finished with an awkward shrug, unsure if he’d just shoved his foot in his mouth or not. He heard Dan sigh loudly, and that was better than being punched.

“ _First of all_ , don’t listen to anything that woman tells you, she is full of _lies_ and **deceit.** I didn’t even understand what love **was** when we were eight. What eight year old knows what _love_ is!” Dan made a face a child might make when talking about cooties, and Chris couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I guess, _feelings_ began around the start of high school, maybe, I don’t know.” Dan looked away, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground instead. “But I didn’t know what those feelings _were_ until that night up on that cliff. After that I kept my mouth shut out of fear of rejection, then years later you met Elise, and I knew I never had a chance in the first place.”

“Aw, Dan--”

“I only agreed to drive you to your wedding in hopes of talking you out of it on the way! The plan was to tell you how I felt _then_ , but, well, obviously **that** didn’t happen.”

Chris glanced away out of guilt, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

“Dan, I’m really so--”

“And as for the, _‘liking men_ ’,” Dan rolled his eyes and air-quoted. “You might be surprised to **hear** this, _Chris_ , but I happen to have a very extensive checklist for things I look for in a potential partner. And when someone just _happens_ to check **all** of those boxes **_and_ ** puts up with me, I don’t exactly have the **_luxury_ ** of being picky about something as trivial as _gender_.”

Chris glanced back, sheepishly.

“I check _all_ the boxes?”

“Eh, _more or less_. And the ones you don’t, you make up for by, y’know. Being the one person in my life who’s always been there for me.”

Chris found himself transfixed with his sandals, the squirming feeling caused by hearing such praise becoming too much to bear. Chris couldn’t help it when he equated it to the time Elise asked him out after the 50th run in at the same coffee shop. (Not that he had been counting-- _who counts those sorts of things?_ ) A part of him wanted to reason that this was completely different simply **BECAUSE** it was Dan. That somewhere in there-- _underneath all those flattering words that caused him to feel lightheaded from the way his heart fluttered within his chest_ \-- was Dan waiting to pull the rug out from under him. Everything ending in some sort of cruel joke that was for his friend’s amusement.

Yet… this doubt didn’t stop the giddy nervousness that was preventing him from facing the man he had known for over twenty years.

Chris began to realize he had been silent for too long, as he tried to say **something**.

“I… _d_ _on’t know what to say_ , really.” This was the truth, even as Chris pushed on. “Just, you make it sound like that’s an impossible feat, or something. Staying around, I mean.”

“ _Isn’t it though?_ Not many can handle all of **this** , you know. Being _valuable goods_ , and all.”

This was enough to make Chris roll his eyes, even as he smiled at the ridiculousness of his friend’s over-inflated ego.

“Yes, I'm sure **that’s** the reason why so many people get pushed away.” 

All mirth in his voice disappeared as the taller man became serious once more. 

“You aren’t going to do that-- push me away, I mean. I meant it when I said I’d **miss** you. Sure, do I wish sometimes we could do something a bit **normal** \-- like go to the movies-- instead of stalking the mailman to figure out why all your packages have been stolen… _Of course._ BUT, I would chase down every postal worker if that meant you’d still be around. Here...”

 _With_ **_me_ ** _._

Dan smiled, and for once it was a soft, genuine smile rather than a crazed or sarcastic grin.

“Thanks, Chris. That means a lot, buddy.” Dan slid down the tree trunk and sat on the ground, patting the grass beside him. Chris gladly complied, sitting next to him, feeling pretty satisfied about making so much progress. He’d actually gotten through to Dan, and they’d had an important, long overdo talk. They’d worked it out like adults. He almost couldn’t believe it!

“I really am sorry you had to find out about this whole thing, though.” Chris heard Dan mutter from beside him. “It definitely makes things more _complicated_.”

Chris sighed, contentedly. The sun was warm. It was nice.

“No, I’m _glad_ I found out, honestly. And it doesn’t **need** to be complicated, you know. Nothing needs to _change_.”

Dan was busy staring straight ahead, gaze looking off into the distance where others were having picnics and playing frisbee with their dogs. The shorter man watched silently, and for a moment Chris feared he was clamming up again, when Dan finally spoke. A very monotone drone of a voice.

“You can fight change all you want, but it always **wins out** in the end. I think **more** has changed than you realize.”

“... What?” Chris felt Dan lean over and against him.

“Can I tell you one more secret, Chris?”

“Um ... yeah, of cou-o _ohh kaaay-_ ” Alarm bells went off in Chris’ head and he leaned away slightly when he felt Dan’s warm breath against his ear. He shivered and swallowed as Dan whispered three words that spoke to his very soul.

“ _I made pancakes_.”

“ _Peh- pancakes_?” Chris mumbled, head still swimming as he squinted into the sunlight pouring into his bedroom window until his wife’s smiling face came into focus.

“Yup! Pancakes. Up and attem, big guy, you wouldn’t wanna miss breakfast!”

Elise had already turned and left the bedroom when Chris managed to find the strength to sit up. Despite having a full night’s rest, the man felt utterly drained. It didn’t help that he was now feeling the stiffness in his shoulder-- no doubt from the confrontation from the day before. Yet, even with that being the case, he couldn’t help but think the cause was more from having gone so far with Dan **only** to have it all been a dream.

The dream remained on Chris’ mind, even as he began getting dressed. The subconscious could be a weird thing, sometimes. It was easy to tell the whole _Robert_ thing had been because he was worried about the guy missing out on such an important milestone in his life. Fleetingly Chris still wondered if he was even invited still, but that thought was pushed aside just as quickly as it came.

No. As always, it was the Dan aspect of the equation that complicated things-- bringing back confused feelings: the fluttering nervousness, the flattery he had felt at the idea that his friend would think of him in such a high regard. Chris sighed, as he realized that there was a possibility none of that was even true. Just his own hopeful take on the matter. For all he knew, Dan was merely into the fact he made a useful patsy. A walking ATM machine.

Flashes of dreams hit him once more-- these, however, not belonging to him. The soft hesitancy in their touch, growing into a passion very much like the Dan he knew. The paradoxical thrills of _desire_ and **dread** \-- all tumbling about into a vortex of the man’s own self-hate and want to push everything away.

Those were **NOT** the surface level feelings of a man who wanted a… _A sugar daddy._ And it was unfair of him to even try to brush off the fact that, underneath everything, Dan was capable of s _o much more_ than just the relentless anger he had seen for most of their lives.

It was this genuineness that Chris couldn’t help but obsessively think about. To the point his mind would wander and wonder what would have happened if Dan HAD told him his feelings sooner. Obviously nothing would have changed on his wedding with Elise-- all things said and done he truly **did** love the woman with every fiber of his being. But what if he had said something _before_ meeting her? Maybe even as far back as after the night on the cliff?

_Would Chris have married Dan instead?_

The fact his brain couldn’t supliment him with a definitive ‘no’ just made him feel worse. 

* * *

“You’ve barely touched your second course, are you feeling alright?”

Chris did his best to smile up at Elise, her hand pressed firmly to his forehead. It was true, he normally polished off four or five courses each breakfast, but anxiety was making it a slog this morning. Which was odd, as Chris was more of a, _eat his feelings_ , kind of guy, than a, stress making him lose his appetite, kind of guy.

Actually, Chris couldn’t remember **anything** that had ever caused him to lose his appetite before.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Chris assured her, taking the hand on his forehead in his and bringing it down, patting it lovingly. “It’s just ... I’m still thinking about-”

“ **Dan.** ” Elise finished, flatly.

“Yeah... hey, Elise?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s say, **hypothetically** , I _did_ have feelings for my best friend. Um ... what then?”

“Ya **_tell_ ** ‘im!” Elise ruffled Chris’ hair, and sat down in the kitchen chair across from him. “You know, _hypothetically._ ”

Chris sighed, shifting his eyes down to his plate, poking at his eggs with his fork.

“And what if I can’t?”

Elise picked up on everything that wasn’t said. They both knew Chris wasn’t a bold man, they both knew he wasn’t the type to make the first move. But neither was Dan, and where Chris’ problem lied was in shyness, Dan’s tended to fall closer to the stubborn category. But, _although not on purpose_ , Dan had **technically** made the first move. The ball was in Chris’ court now. Elise had a feeling it would be up to her to make sure he didn’t drop it.

“Then you let your wife help.”

“ **_Ohh,_ ** _I don’t know about that.._.” Chris trailed off, seeming to shrink in his chair.

“Chris, let me help.” Chris was startled to see Elise leaned halfway across the table, practically laying on it, a look of excited glee on her face. Chris was, not for the first time, reminded of just how alike Dan and Elise actually were, and just like with Dan, her enthusiasm now made him wary.

“What’s that look for, why do you want to help so badly?”

“Is it so _wrong_ to want my husband to be happy?” Her smile persisted, and Chris narrowed his eyes at her, suspiciously.

“Well **_no_ ** , but now I **definitely** think you have an ulterior motive here.”

“What, _pfft nooo,_ me?” Elise bit her lip through her smile and waited, but Chris only stared. She gave up and returned to her chair.

“Yeah okay **_maybe_ ** I think it’ll be _fascinating_ to see Dan’s alleged _softer side_.”

Chris gave her a tired, flat look.

“Fascinating, or amusing?”

“M-hm! So whaddya say? _Please_ , can I help, Chris? Come on, _let me help_!”

Chris wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of his wife meddling only to get the better of Dan. That was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode-- especially when you take into account all the times the shorter man had gone off after feeling played. Yet… his own feelings _were_ genuine. And Chris had to admit, there was a curiosity burning inside him-- one that desperately wished to see just where this rabbit hole would take him.

And if anyone was going to be able to psychoanalyse someone like Dan… it was most likely going to be his wife.

Chris sighed, half-heartedly taking a bite of the pancakes on his plate.

“Okay, I’m listening. What exactly **do** you have in mind?”

The fork nearly fell out of his mouth when a folder was thrown onto his plate-- right into the sticky syrupy remains of his meal.

Chris cried out in surprise.

“H-hey!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you more later.” Elise, across from him, was busy opening up her own manilla folder. “Now, if you’ll turn to the first page you’ll find the table of contents…”

“ _Table of contents?_ ” Chris opened the folder, licking his fingers, as he saw the scowling image of Dan’s mugshot. Quickly skimming through the list, his eyes opened wide as his gaze turned towards his wife. “Just… Just how LONG have you been planning this?”

“Since you first told me about Dan’s dreams. “ Elise responded-- far too matter of factly for Chris’ liking. “I figured it would come in handy. Either for **this** or _knowing how to create an alibi once we disposed of the body._ ”

“.... What was that last bit?” Chris asked, worriedly. Elise merely waved him off. 

“ **I** **’m kidding!** Now, if you’ll turn to page three, I’d like to go over the possible hitches in the plan-- just to know how to counter them _before_ they happen.”

It was while turning the page of the file that Chris began to wonder if he was just trading off one crazed schemer for another…

And what sort of trouble he was throwing himself into.


	5. Chris VS. Dismember Fest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having talked the subject out with his wife, Chris Pearson finds himself at Dan's doorstep. To ask him on a date to Dismember Fest, of all places. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy violence and gore tw. But eh, it's about Slasher films. So that's to be expected.

Chris Pearson stared up at the sight of a familiar building. Despite it being daylight, on an overly pleasant summer afternoon, trepidation ate away at him as his eyes gazed upon the second floor-- where Dan’s house laid waiting. Chris groaned, placing a finger to his ear as he began to speak.

“Remind me again why I’m here,” he said to the empty car, pouting. “You _know_ Dan doesn’t like it when I show up unannounced.”

A small sigh was heard in his ear, as the familiar voice of his wife answered him.

“Chris, we _discussed this_ already. You’re not going to get anywhere unless you manipulate Dan into letting his guards down.”

“Can we not phrase it that way? It sounds so…” He paused. “Well, it sounds like we’re doing something **wrong** , somehow.”

“What? _Noooo_ . It’s for both of you, I swear.” And it was here that Elise took control of the situation, becoming her natural born leader self. “Now, repeat to me what your mission is. **Humor me** , Chris.”

The man, already working on leaving his car, sighed as he put on the glasses his wife had instructed him to wear.

“Well, you want me to invite him to Dismember Fest-- you **know** how much I hate horror, Elise.”

Chris could hear the smile in Elise’s voice.

“I know, honey. But **you** know how much Dan **loves it** . It’ll be a nice first step, _trust me._ ”

“I don’t know...” Chris waffled, climbing the stairs despite the nervous dread that threatened to paralyze him on the spot. “Dismember Fest doesn’t exactly scream ‘ _romantic_ ’.”

“This is **Dan** we’re talking about, the glow of a burning village probably feels romantic to him.”

“Yeah ... maybe ... I guess.” Elise could see from her screen, linked to the camera on Chris’ sunglasses, that he was standing outside of Dan’s door now, eyes darting around anxiously, hand frozen mid-knock.

“Chris, what are you waiting for? Knock!” Elise urged from his earpiece. Chris made a sound that was somewhere between a whine and a gasp in response.

“...Chris?”

“ _I’m nervous._ ” He squeaked. “I can’t move.” He heard his wife sighed in his ear, and her frustration wasn’t helping him feel any better.

“Honey, _come on_ , you’ve knocked on Dan’s door **at least** a million times! This time is no different.”

“It’s so **_is_ ** different!” Chris argued, tone hushed. “I’ve never knocked on Dan’s door to _ask him out on a date_ before!”

“Chris, just knock on the door it will be **_fine_ **.”

“ _What if he says no._..”

“ **Chris!** **_Knock_ **!”

Chris made that noise again, and winced, but he managed to get his arm to move, on its way to complete the knock ... when the door burst open suddenly.

“ **GO AWAY! I’M NOT INTERESTED! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU DARKEN MY DOORSTEP AGAIN,** **_OR SO HELP ME I’LL-_ ** **-** ”

Chris stumbled back, the world swirling out of focus for a moment as his heart attempted to climb its way up his throat. He had to clutch the railing behind him with trembling hands to keep from tumbling over the side.

“Oh, _hey Chris_ . What’s with the sunglasses? You look _ridiculous_.”

Yeah, and he **felt** ridiculous too. Only tourists wore sunglasses in L.A. -- their eyes not equipped to handle the high levels of sunlight. Yet, Chris kept that to himself as he tried to remain as casual as possible.

“Heh, h-hey Dan. It’s been a while, huh?”

“I saw you, like, three days ago.” Dan retorted back, instantly sensing something was off about the exchange. “What are you **DOING** here? I didn’t authorize your visit.”

These words were what brought Chris out of his timid state, as he glared down at his friend.

“What? Are you saying I need _special permission_ to see you, now? I can’t just visit because I want to see you?”

“ **No.** But the defensive retort makes me want to start getting it in writing, yeah.” Dan was getting cross now. “Nobody just _shows up_ without a reason.”

“I have a **reason** , Dan- “

“Then spit it out already! I don’t have all day!”

Chris had seen this exchange going differently back when he and Elise planned out the details at their kitchen table. How he would be calm but genuine as he asked the shorter man to accompany him for the afternoon. Instead, with esaperated anger, Chris yelled out his inquiry to all the neighborhood.

“I wanted to know if you’d go with me to Dismember Fest, **ALRIGHT?!** _You make the littlest things so_ ** _DIFFICULT_** _,_ you know that?”

Dan’s expression went from surprised to doubtful in the span of two seconds.

“ _Dismember Fest_ ? But you **hate** going to that, I usually have to practically _drag you there_ every year.” Dan retorted, having completely blocked out Chris’ criticisms against his person.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But _you_ like it, and uh...”

“ _Dan’s pessimistic paranoia is going to make him suspicious_ .” Elise was in his ear again. “ _Quick! Appeal to his overinflated sense of ego to distract him!_ ”

“And um, you’re worth it?” Chris finished with a hopeful smile. Dan stared back at him, seemed to stare into his very soul, and just when Chris was beginning to sweat, Dan glanced away thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin.

“That **is** _true_ , I **am** _worth it_.” He grinned up at his friend, expression radiating youthful excitement, bouncing in place slightly as if he may explode from barely contained glee. “Okay, give me _five minutes_ to get my face paint on and dig out my plastic hatchet, be **_right_** back!”

Dan disappeared back into his apartment and Chris slumped, letting out the breath he’d been holding in. “ **_Oh_ ** I cannot believe that worked.”

“ _Classic case of a narcissistic personality._ ” Elise commented from his ear, “Keep the focus on **him** \-- while distant enough to avoid discussion of vulnerability-- and the man’s practically putty in your hands.”

Chris just blinked, taking in what his wife said.

“Where did you learn all that?”

“Eh, simple psychology 101. Most first year college students take it.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “Next question: why do you even **HAVE** all this surveillance equipment?”

Chris couldn’t see any reason why a tech department would require her to have transmitters and screen glasses on standby. Elise was hesitant about answering for a moment, _though Chris couldn’t think why_ , when she finally responded.

“Oh, you know… it’s girl stuff.”

Chris flinched.

“Ah, yeah, no, _say no more_ . You don’t have to tell me **anything**.”

“Don’t have to tell you what, now?”

The taller man whipped around, seeing Dan was back-- face covered with red and blue paint. Chris fumbled for words, trying to explain himself out of the awkwardness of telling the man Elise was spying on them.

‘Oh, uh, about that… I was… I was just wanting to ask you why you were yelling to begin with. Who did you **THINK** was at the door?”

Dan rolled his eyes.

“The savaged people that USUALLY try and bother me with their solicitation: _Girls Scouts and Jehovah Witnesses._ ” The goblin of a man sighed. “ At least the Scientologists had insights into extraterrestrial activity, even if they **were** into manipulative propaganda!”

“ _Uh huh._ ..” Chris raised a brow but decided not to open _that_ particular can of worms as they made their way down the stairs. Things were a lot less tense now, and Chris began to realize that Elise had been right ... there was really no difference between this outing and any other they’d had in the past.

“Hey wait, so you heard me talking out there and you thought ‘ _girl scouts_ ’?”

“Hey, don’t look at me, you have a very feminine voice.”

“What? I do not!”

“ _I do no-ot._ ” Dan repeated in a higher, mocking tone. “I mean **seriously,** have you **_ever_ ** listened to yourself?”

Dan slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, while Chris still stood outside on the driver’s side, glaring out at the street and contemplating his life choices. Finally he turned away from the car and whispered harshly into the earpiece.

“Elise, honey, _I’m having second thoughts._ Any chance we can just forget this whole thing, and--”

“Get in the car, Chris, we have come **way** too far to back out now.”

“ _Are you_ **_sure,_ ** _because-_ -”

“What is **_taking_ ** you so long!” Dan had leaned over the seat and rolled down Chris’ window to shout at him. “ _We’re gonna miss the blood splatter demonstration panel..._ ” Dan whined, and Chris looked back to see genuine fearful disappointment in those normally cold eyes. Chris sighed, a weak man and climbed behind the wheel.

“Sorry, sorry, I was. Uh, I had to, take a bathroom break.”

Dan scowled at him.

“ _In the_ **_street_ ** ? What are you, some kind of _anima_ l?”

"Isn’t that what you **like** about me, Dan?”

The moment the snarky comment was out of his mouth, Chris regretted it, guilt and panic causing him to stiffen in his seat. The cold silence that followed only made it worse.

“I’m, sorry that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was. Now drive.”

“Yeah, I’m. I’ll just, drive.”

Chris was relieved when the silence and awkward air between them was quickly replaced with Dan excitedly telling him about a few select movies he was looking forward to watching, and a few he already had.

“Personally, I think ‘Carroll, Oh Carroll’ is an underrated classic. There’s charm to the prepubescent jealousy, and the tie in to the horrors of suppressing exploration of sexuality versus innocence being taken advantage of. It’s really quite the art piece.” 

Dan paused to take in a breath, a manic grin spreading across his face.

“Also, Carroll cuts off her sister’s tongue and bludgeons her head in with a porcelain doll-- and the details to the gore is just--” The short man blew a kiss into the air. “ _Mmm._ So perfect!”

While Chris grew sick over the thought of seeing such a thing, he could hear his wife hum approvingly from his ear.

“Oh man, I’ve been meaning to watch that one.”

“Please no,” Chrise whined, “one time will be _plenty._ ”

Dan stopped his enthusiastic recounting to glare at Chris from the passenger seat.

“ **What** are you **_mumbling_ ** about over there? Are you even **listening** to me?”

“Yes Dan, I’m _listening_ , I heard all of it, the tongue cutting, the bludgeoning, it’s just not my _favorite_ subject, and you **know** that.” Chris threw Dan a slightly annoyed glance, and saw Dan’s smile return.

“Ah, more of a knife-wielding serial killer fan, _I understand_. Yeah, a good slasher film has its merits, too.”

Chris frowned ... he legitimately couldn’t tell if Dan was just teasing him, or he really didn’t know him at all.

“Actually no, I’m really more of a, _low-suspense thriller_ kind of guy or, or maybe a nice romantic comedy.”

“ _Romantic comedy?_ ” Dan snickered. “Boy, are **you** in the wrong place!” Dan punctuated the ‘you’ by tapping Chris on the shoulder with his plastic ax.

“You don’t say.” Chris replied flatly as they turned into the parking lot.

“ _Besides_ .” Dan continued, hopping out of the car, not even waiting for Chris to follow both physically and with the conversation. “What’s the point of watching romantic comedies? People don’t just find each other-- through a series of overly cartoonish events-- and just _fall in love_ . Nothing _sings_ inside you. Snow doesn’t fall, fading to black. _And don’t even get me_ **_STARTED_ ** _on long distance relationships.”_

Dan waited by the entrance of the convention center-- “Dismember Fest” written in blood dripping font from a banner-- as he waited for Chris to open the door. Once he did so, the shorter man went on with his rant, completely ignoring a guy walking out of the building with a screaming head prop.

“That’s why horror is **clearly** superior. It’s _real,_ it’s **raw** . You can break down fear without being disappointed in it. Everybody **dies** and _gets screwed over in the end._ ”

Hearing this sent an ache to Chris’ chest, even as he heard Elise mutter to him alone.

“That… certainly explains some things. _Adding to his file_.”

This went ignored, even as Chris addressed his best friend’s comments.

“Love **IS** real, Dan. Sure, you don’t find people the way _you_ described it. But most people don’t end up with their throats slashed, either.” The taller man looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sometimes you just wake up one day, realizing how important the person is to you. And… And I think that’s _just as okay_ as knowing you like someone right off the bat..”

“Oh, _Chris_ ...” He heard Dan utter, nervousness preventing Chris from looking at his friend. Had that worked, had it really been that easy? Oh no. _Now what?_ Chris hadn’t **planned** this far ahead-- his panic reached its crescendo when Dan grabbed his hand and squeezed, this was moving very fast, maybe _too_ fast?

“I don’t **_believe_ **it, I think that’s Adam Hooper over there!” Chris was suddenly yanked forward, being dragged deeper into the convention, and he realized with a paradoxical mix of disappointment and relief that Dan’s sentiments had not been aimed at him.

“Perhaps better known as Dr. Fell to fans of the genre, _such as myself_.”

But Chris barely heard him now, too preoccupied doing his best to give the other festival goers a wide berth. The logical part of Chris’ mind told him that the multitude of very realistic monsters and blood-stained serial killers Dan was rudely shoving past were only fans in costume.

The rest of him whimpered and wished very much he was back home in that moment.

“Excuse us, _I am so sorry_ , **_oh_ ** _that knife looks_ **_very_ ** _real_...”

Chris’ chain of apologies were cut off abruptly with a scream as a revving chainsaw was suddenly shoved in his face.

“ _Really_ Chris,” Dan uttered with exasperation, yanking the taller man away from the Chainsaw Wielding Maniac wannabe. “You’re _embarrassing me_. You met the **REAL** **THING** \-- in his home turf-- **WHY** would some _low grade cosplayer_ even phase you? _“_

The phrase was spat, showing his obvious opinion on the subject. Chris merely followed, almost stumbling over his own feet as Dan went faster through the crowd.

“D-Dan, please. _Slow down!_ ”

“We don’t have **TIME** ! I will **NOT** be late for the crowd comments. I have questions about Dr. Fell’s character that **NOBODY** seems to want to ask the guy!”

Chris Pearson made a pathetic whimper of a sound, shoulder beginning to hurt as he feared that Dan was going to tear his rotator cuff. No rest was had until they were well across the convention center, where Dan only let go so as to let Chris fetch his wallet to pay for the special panel. He had hardly put his change away, when he was grabbed again-- this time into the small auditorium.

Dan, meanwhile, was as giddy as a child-- wiggling from one leg to the other as he couldn’t contain his joy.

“Hehe, look Chris! _It’s hiiiiim!_ ” The shorter man was, of course, referring to the older gentleman on stage. He smiled wider as he noticed people waiting to use the microphone. “I’m getting in line!”

“Yeah, okay.” But Dan had already taken off to claim his place in line. And that was perfectly fine, it gave Chris a moment to relax ... he glanced around again at the other ghastly guests ... or at least catch his breath.

“Aww, he’s like an excited puppy.” Elise cooed in his ear.

“Yeah ... I just hope he doesn’t bite anyone.” What may have sounded to most like a joke had been a very real concern for Chris.

“Is he yours?”

“I’m **_trying_ ** , don’t **rush** m-- _Oh_!” That one hadn’t been Elise. He forced a smile and a nervous chuckle at the woman standing beside him, still pointing at Dan. Chris glanced over to see he was still bouncing slightly in anticipation, even while in line.

“He’s a grown man, ma’am, but, uh yeah. Kind of.”

“My little Tommy’s up next!” The woman responded, either not hearing him or ignoring him completely, hands clasped in front of her, eyes fixed on the stage. Chris followed her intense stare to see a toddler, no older than eight, struggling to reach the microphone. He wore a striped shirt and a badly constructed paper mask. A convention worker readjusted the stand so the kid could reach. The aging actor smiled at the kid, seeming amused.

“Um. I was gonna ask. If um. When the um. Um.”

“ **_Boooo_ ** !” Chris winced as Dan called out from his place in line. “ **Ask the question or get off the stage, some of us have** **_important matters_ ** **to discuss!** ”

The child instantly burst into tears and ran off stage, across the crowded convention hall. The mother gasped, threw Chris a dirty scowl, and took off after her child.

“ _You probably shouldn’t have brought your_ **_toddler_ ** _to a_ **_gore festival_ ** _anyway.._.” Chris called after her.

Dan, meanwhile, had taken this opportunity to scurry his way to the mic. Yanking the thing back to a height more suitable to an adult of HIS stature (or at least that of a 7th grader), Adam Hooper greeted him with a thick European accent that came across as restrained politeness.

“Hello there, young man. And you are?”

“Save the pleasantries, pops, I am _more than aware_ of the exchange going on here.” 

It was obvious Dan was refusing to give out information about himself, and Chris couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the unprovoked paranoia. Dan refused to dawdle any longer as he went for broke.

“So, Mr. Hooper-- _if that’s even your real name_ \-- I have a bone to pick with you. I wanted to know why, after your performance in “Titian Tarragon”, they decided to go forward with making a movie on Dr. Fell’s childhood. Wasn’t the first book supposed to be the whole mysterious backstory of ‘classy philanthropist gets caught eating babies’? _Why didn’t you stop them from taking away everything that made the character_ **_INTERESTING_ ** _?!_ ”

Hooper blinked at this, his wrinkled brow furrowing with concern.

“I… honestly have no control on what happens to a character. Once the author sells their rights to a studio, it’s management who decides--”

“You had the **POWER** , the voice! _You are the face of Dr. Fell!_ They wouldn’t have a single cent without **YOUR** work!”

Chris could see this was starting to go too far, as he hurried over to the microphone, covering it as he whispered harshly at his friend.

“ _I thought you said you were a fan of his?_ ”

“I **am** . I just hate that he rolled over and let a corporation **_TARNISH HIS CHARACTER!!_ **”

The latter part was hollered up at the stage, Dan shaking his fist at the elderly actor. Chris was sweating now, as he noticed that security was starting it inch their way towards them.

“ _O-oookay_ , Dan, I think we should **REALLY** maybe go see that movie now. You wouldn’t want to miss it!”

When Dan made no indication he planned on moving, Chris placed a hand on each shoulder and turned him around, pushing the small angry man off the stage. Dan, of course, struggled the entire way, shoe heels sliding over the polished wooden stage.

“ **_This isn’t over, old man_ **!” Dan called back over his shoulder.

“ **_Yes it is_ ** !” Chris called back after. **“** _It is!_ ” He hissed at Dan.

The moment they were off the stage, Chris nearly toppled over and fell on his face when Dan stopped resisting and began casually walking forward on his own. Dan seemed not to notice.

“Well _that_ was fun. Now hurry up! We’re gonna miss the movie!”

“Dan, wait...” But Dan did **not** wait, grabbing a fistful of Chris’ shirt and dragging him off to the next event. 

* * *

Any misgivings Chris may have had about the day ceased to matter now. Not only was he getting to sit, but his lap was full of junk food, the best movie theater garbage there was. Granted, with his wife in his ear reminding him of his promise to start taking better care of himself, he hadn’t been able to get nearly as much as he would have liked to.

Dan seemed to notice this, as he eyed the taller man sitting next to him suspiciously.

“What, not planning on _stuffing your maw_ as per usual?”

If it weren’t for the particular words spat out, Chris would almost say the shorter man had sounded… concerned. 

Chris looked down at the snacks in his hands, lamenting the fact his large popcorn was already halfway depleted.

“Yeah… I, uh… _I’m not that hungry?_ ” He winced, and even Elise hissed in his ear about what a terrible excuse that was. Dan, however, did a double take as he was now sitting straight up in his seat-- fully looking at Chris now.

“ _‘Not that hungry?_ ’ What, you **sick** or something?” What would have easily been mistaken for consideration for his friend’s well being, Dan turning his fingers into a cross as he leaned away told Chris _otherwise_ . “You better not give me a bug, or **SO HELP ME** , Chris--”

“I’m not SICK, Dan. Stop yelling, _you’re making people stare_ .” Before Dan could retort, Chris did his best to tell him some semblance of the truth. “It’s Elise. She told me to… _be mindful._ ”

Dan glared at this, the topic of Elise no doubt being what caused his mood to sour.

“That’s dumb. What, you just gonna let your harpy of a wife boss you around? If you’re hungry, eat. It’s not **ROCKET SCIENCE**!”

“ **_Harpy_ **?!”

Chris winced, pressing a hand against the painful ringing in his ear.

“ **OWw** _wooohh_ I don’t know, I think she has a point... she’s only looking out for my well being...”

“You know she’s only keeping you alive for _breeding purposes_ , don’t you?”

“ _What_ ? Dan, that’s, **mean** ! And _disturbing_. And, untrue.”

“Shut up, the movie’s starting.”

Chris slumped in his seat as the lights began to dim. Dan sat in the seat beside him, scowling with his arms crossed. _Oohh boy._ Chris had somehow managed to shove his foot in his mouth, again.

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” Elise again. Chris sank even further into his seat. “You have my _full permission_ to break his shriveled little heart. And later, **after** your little date, _I just might decide to break his_ **_everything else_ ** _._ ”

Chris, meanwhile, said nothing in response. By this point the movie’s inconsequential character was being seen on screen, and it would be difficult for him to talk over the volume of her screams. Still, Chris couldn’t help but think the matter over, partially as a distraction from the horrors to come. It was pretty easy to tell that Dan’s jealousy was the root of his issues with his wife. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was, in part, from the fact the two happened to have quite a bit in common. From their stubbornness, to quick sudden bursts of anger. Not to mention retorting to violence with others when they felt it was needed. It was… interesting how he hadn’t noticed it all sooner.

That all said, Chris also remembered their trip to Mount Vernon-- and the particularly eerie feeling he had when he saw the two getting along. How… _parental_ Elise came and how Dan easily fell in line-- most likely a natural reaction brought about the man’s lack of familial love growing up. 

If everything worked out as planned-- if Chris was successful with his attempt at bringing his feelings to light with Dan… Was THAT something he would have to deal with? His… his wife treating his would-be boyfriend _as their child?_

This line of inquiry had so many troubling issues of ‘don’t want to think about that, _pleaseandthankyou_ ’, that Chris instantly pushed that to the back of his mind.

Only to be brought out of his thoughts by sudden screams. The brunette woman in the film instantly being silenced by a knife stabbed through her throat--body thrown violently to the ground.

“Oh, _I don’t_ **_LIKE_ ** _that_!” Chris cried out, covering his eyes and curling away from the screen as Dan laughed maniacally next to him.

“You see, Chris?” Dan whispered loudly to his friend, gesturing up at the screen. “ _Realism._ You go to a park at night, you’re **much** more likely to find a **knife** in your neck than _true love._ ”

Dan frowned and glanced at Chris when his only response was a whimper. The goof had both of his eyes covered, he wasn’t even _watching_ the movie! Dan grasped one of Chris’ wrists and yanked his hand away from his face.

“Hey, I spent your good money to see this movie-- the **least** you can do is **watch** it!”

Chris did his best to relax, turning his attention back to the movie, but it had not gotten any better.

“ _Ohhh what’s he doing now.._.” Chris whined, frowning so deeply his face was beginning to hurt.

“ _Clearly, he’s harvesting her organs. He’ll probably keep them as trophies, that’s like serial killer 101_.”

“ _Oh_.” Chris squeaked. The scene briefly cut to a teenaged boy searching the grounds with a flashlight. The beam fell upon vague and blurry out of focus gore in the foreground, and the boy ran over to fall to his knees beside the remains of the woman. The boy lamented aloud about how bummed he was about her death, while in the background, an ominous shadow rose up.

“ _Ohhh no, he’s_ **_behind_ ** _you, get_ **_out_ ** _of there..._ ” Chris hissed, his own anxiety quickly rising as if it were _him_ about to be eviscerated.He was distantly aware of Dan bouncing excitedly in the seat beside him. The kid slowly turned around and Chris **_screamed_ **as the knife sliced through the kid’s abdomen.

And screaming wasn’t the only thing he did, practically leaping from his chair, now kneeling in his seat rather than sitting in it, and wrapping his arms around the nearest comfort item.

Dan went rigid as Chris was squeezing him close to his body. There was the sound of a rapid heartbeat-- Dan not being able to tell if it was the sound of Chris’ anxiety in seeing dismemberment, or his own fluttering feelings from being so close to the man he had been infatuated with for years. As Chris flinched again, eyes ripping away from the film as he buried himself into his best friend’s hair, Dan decided maybe it didn’t matter.

Elise watched from her own computer screen as she saw the small smile grace Dan’s face, his embrace tightening around her husband in comfort.

There was a chance she was starting to believe Chris in that the horrible goblin actually _had_ a softer side, after all.

“Chris… “ Elise whispered, on the off chance Dan might hear her. “He’s **holding** you. You’re right next to his ear. _**SAY** something.” _

_Elise’s words were heard but barely registered, Chris far more preoccupied by the senseless gore taking place on screen. Even now that he had his face hidden, he could hear the sickening squelching noises, and he, a fully grown man, felt like he might cry a little._

As for Dan, being held in the darkness of the movie theater was nice, up until it wasn’t. Chris’ embrace tightened and suddenly it was hard to breathe ... not because of feelings, but because his rib cage was being crushed. He tried to bark out a scathing warning for Chris to let go, but his words came out as a gasping, gagging noise instead. The arms around him tightened even further, and Dan swore he could hear his own bones crack. Panic began to set in then, a blinded need to survive, not unlike a helpless rat in its last moments in the coils of a deadly boa constrictor.

Chris was instantly snapped out of his terror trance when a sharp pain caused him to let go of his comfort item and recoil away from it. He rubbed his sore arm and glared at the monster sitting beside him.

“You **bit** me!” Chris hissed, incredulously. “ _Don’t_ **_bite_ ** _people, Dan_!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have _had_ to,” Dan began, calmly, before shouting, “ **_if you hadn’t tried crushing me to death in your meaty bear arms, you jerk_ **!”

“Wha- I-”

A wave of hushing noises rose up from behind them, the other people in the theater growing annoyed by the constant interruptions. Dan whipped around to face them, standing on his seat to shout at them.

“Don’t **shush** me! I will **_STRANGLE_ ** you with your own shoelaces!”

A few people got up and headed toward the exit, muttering to themselves, and Dan turned back to sit in his seat, satisfied but still upset. Turning his attention back to the screen only made things worse.

“Aww, you made me miss _the best part._..” He whined.

“Sorry…” Chris mumbled under his breath, more so not to disturb Dan or the audience. Elise sighed in his ear.

“We’ll need to get you tested when you get home. _Don’t know what Dan might be carrying._ ”

While this was said in jest, clearly to cheer him up… Chris couldn’t help but feel as though he had missed an opportunity to finally get somewhere. That yet another door had been slammed on him-- just as the new girl on the screen had done her best to keep her attacker at bay. Chris slunked in his seat, trying to focus more on the pleased and giddy sounds made by Dan than any of the massacres occurring.

It **did** help… _but only by so much._

* * *

Despite all odds, the rest of the afternoon seemed to only go up from there. Sure, being tripped by children-- only to be attacked by them with toy weapons while Dan laughed on the sidelines-- wouldn’t be **his** description of ‘a good time’. Yet, there was something almost _infectious_ about seeing his friend in such a good mood-- talking about what his interests were, for a change, rather than long rants about everything he despised. It made handing over large chunks of money to buy comics and collectible figurines of his favorite monstrosities come from a genuine place of wanting to give Dan gifts, rather than the usual annoyed nature of feeling used.

From the sellers section the two moved onwards, finding the concessions stands. This only brought Chris’ spirits soaring, to the point he didn’t mind that every item was themed after different cult classics. Even Dan found himself disturbed-- _and some parts impressed_ \-- as he watched the taller man fill his gullet with pastries designed to look like a bowl of organs.

“That might just be the fifth grossest thing I’ve ever seen, Chris”

“Really? What were the other four?”

“Trust me, _you wouldn’t be able to stomach it._ ”

It was nearing late evening, and the two had been at the convention practically all day. It was strange, going from dread at having to go to Dismember Fest to begin with, to having the saddening sentiments that their time was about to end. Still, he smiled on, as he listened to Dan talk about another one of his favorite films.

“And _sure_ , the heavy religious overtones throughout were a **little** much, but at least it was more bearable than the _sequel_ . **_Uhg,_ ** don’t even get me **started** on **that** steaming pile of--”

But Dan didn’t get the chance to get started, as a burly man pushed past as if they hadn’t even been standing there, causing him to stumble forward and drop the Soul Suckers from Varlon Seven figurine Chris had bought for him. Dan gasped as it hit the floor and broke into several pieces. He turned a glare up to the guy who’d bumped into him.

“ **Hey** ! **Excuse** me, **_sir_ **!” Despite the politeness of his words, the tone and inflections with which they were spoken were anything but. The guy stopped mid-stride, slowly turning his head to see who’d just had the nerve to address him. He was a hulking monstrosity of a man, clad in a heavily soiled butcher apron over a pair of dingy overalls. He wore a pig mask and carried a large cleaver that looked suspiciously real.

He eyed Dan and snorted.

“Don’t you grunt at **_me_ ** , _Porky_ ! You just **broke** my _rather pricey collectors item_ ” Dan pointed at his broken figurine on the floor as if he were pointing at a mess a dog had made on the floor. “and I **_demand_ **you pay to have it replaced! ... Chris, make this man pay. ... With cash, preferably, but don’t be afraid to rough him up a little if you have to.”

“I’m, not going to do that, Dan, I’ll just, buy you another one, okay?”

“Get ready, here he comes!”

“Oh no. Dan, we should really go, he’s kind of big...”

Chris backed away, hands up in surrender, but Dan held his ground, crossing his arms and staring down the hulking beast as he stomped over. Chris watched as Dan was simply picked up in one beefy hand by the scruff of his shirt, like a harmless, cursing kitten, and dropped into a nearby wastebasket.

That hulking figure of a man didn’t know what he had unleashed, as Dan rocked over the trash can-- scurrying out. Heaving, face painted in the hues of uncontrollable fury, Dan leapt onto the Butcher’s back. Latched onto him, like a miniature bobcat locking their claws on what would have been their prey, Dan growled.

“HOW **DARE** YOU BELITTLE ME, YOU BEHEMOTH SWINE! You’re gonna pay, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!”

Chris was startled when he saw Dan put the stranger in a headlock. Not so much for fear that his friend would cause the pigman harm-- his neck was far too thick for that. No...Chris was worried that eventually the Butcher would stop being amused, and would actually harm his friend.

Mirth became ire the moment Dan bit into his meaty neck. And with it, the first words the stranger said, thicken with a heavy Italian accent- as he grabbed Dan’s throat.

“ _You will be_ **_regretting_ ** _that, little man._ ”

Chris certainly was already feeling that way the moment he slammed him into the concrete convention floor. The first punch met Dan’s face, the shorter man no doubt having been too winded to even think of moving. Chris watched in absolute dismay and disgust as the Butcher was preparing himself for another.

This, however, never made contact with Dan. Chris, having no time to think about his own safety, lept in between the two-- catching the fist with his own hand.

“I think we’re **DONE** here, sir. _Step away from him._ ” It was then that Chris’ harsh glare slipped some, as he remembered himself-- adding a quick. “ _Please._ ”

Chris was quite the sight to behold from Dan’s perspective on the floor, looming over him like a guardian angel mid-battle with a demon from the underworld, fighting for him and him alone.

Or maybe that was just the concussion talking, Dan realized, squinting through the radiating agony in his head.

“Get ‘im, Chris!” Dan shouted, tone unsteady but grinning all the same. The grin was stolen away when the pigman chuckled deeply and harshly, before picking up Chris just as easily as he had Dan. Dan staggered to his feet ungracefully and took a battle stance, balling his hands into fists and letting out a battle cry.

“ **_ATTACK!_ **” And he pounced with an animalistic grunt.

An hour later, Chris and Dan sat in silence next to each other in a jail cell, both of them covered in scratches and bruises. Chris’ arm was in a sling, and one of Dan’s eyes was swollen completely shut.

“Y’know, it’s **funny** they keep putting us in this _particular_ cell. Do you think this is _our_ **designated** cell?”

Chris only sighed wearily in reply, hanging his head. Dan frowned, averting his eyes back down to the cold concrete floor.

“ _M’sorry_ .” Dan mumbled. This got Chris’ attention. He perked up immediately, looking over at Dan. Had he just _apologized_? That was a rarity for him.

“... You are? What are **you** sorry for?” Chris asked. Dan didn’t look at him, just shrugged weakly.

“Well _clearly_ **_you_** didn’t have a good time today.”

“ _And you_ **_did_ **?” Chris spat back, instantly regretting how harshly it had come out. Now Dan did look up at him, Chris’ anxieties lessened when he saw the hint of a smile there.

“Of **course** I did. I got to meet one of my all time favorite actors, watched one of my favorite movies _in the theater_ , **and** got into a deadly brawl with my best friend against a hulking caveman! Granted, it wasn’t **_quite_ ** as impressive as seeing you take out an entire hoard of clown cultists, armed with nothing but your fists and a pair of bolt cutters, _but it was up there_.”

There it was, the warmth that was threatening Chris into melting into a liquified goo of a person. A lopsided grin stretched on his face, as the taller man looked away--a blush already threatening to break through.

“I… _really_ am happy to hear that, Dan.” 

It was in this moment that Chris realized he had lost the glasses and earpiece in the scuffle-- more than likely broken the moment he was thrown across the room. Chris had to suppress a groan of frustration. Great, _just fantastic_ . When the two of them were finally talking about actual feelings, and **NOW** Elise wasn’t there to help.

… Hopefully she knew they were at the police station, otherwise they wouldn’t be bailed out until he was allowed his phone call-- which could very well be the next day at the following rate…

That, however, was a thought to worry about later. Now, it was trying to muster up the courage to say something-- **ANYTHING!**

Chris used his good arm to rub at the back of his neck, as he attempted to carry on the conversation.

“And, for the record… It… Today wasn’t **about** me; enjoying myself, that is. I wanted to do something for you that didn’t involve things getting out of hand.” A pause. “ That, uh, pretty much failed at the end there, huh? Still! I wanted to see you enjoy yourself. For, well, _to be perfectly honest,_ for my own sake.”

This was met with an almost palpable wall of silence. Chris glanced up fearfully to see Dan scowling, his one good eye narrowed.

“Why?” Dan asked, slowly, tone laced with cold suspicion.

“Nothing nefarious!” Chris quickly assured him. “It’s just ... look, Dan, the truth is, I’ve been kind of, struggling with my own--”

Perhaps still on edge from the day’s events, Chris jumped slightly when their cell door clanked open loudly. The two of them looked over to see a guard standing there.

“Alright, you two, you’re free t’go. Collect your belongings and get out.”

The guard stepped aside and Elise stepped forward, looking tired but sympathetic. Chris was filled with a sense of gratitude, like coming home to a warm bed after a long, hard day. Like being interrupted and not having to tackle that difficult conversation.

“Elise!” Chris exclaimed, standing from the bench to hug her with one arm.

“There, there, my poor big man, does it hurt?” Elise cooed, referring to his injured appendage, wrapping both arms around her husband.

“It does, it really does.” Chris replied, leaning into it despite knowing he was being spoken to as if he were a child.

“Would chocolate cake make it feel any better?”

“...It might.”

Dan, meanwhile, mimed a gag while listening to this sickening display-- folding his arms over his chest and scowling, gaze on the wall in the complete opposite direction.

Elise watched all of this from over Chris’ shoulder. She couldn’t help but notice his scowl didn’t reach his eye. Only self-pity resided there.

“I made sure to make the cake dairy-free if you'd like to join us, Dan.”

Dan glanced back over, doing his best to hold his hateful expression, but failed completely in not looking like a sad, vulnerable child instead.

“We should probably get some ice on that eye, anyway. _That looks bad._ ” Elise added. Both her and Chris were smiling back at him now. He reluctantly slid off the bench and shuffled over.

“I don’t need your **_charity_ **, woman.” He mumbled. “But I’ll take a piece of cake. And the ice.”

He didn’t even recoil or complain when Elise placed a gentle hand atop his head as the three of them walked out together. It may not have been the big confession that Chris had hoped for, everything wrapped up in a neat little bow… But as Dan began talking about his plan to hunt down the Butcher for revenge-- Elise laughing and offering suggestions on how to track his whereabouts…

Chris Pearson couldn’t help but think that they had moved forward all the same.


	6. Dan VS. the Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Elise sets the reservation, Chris calls Dan to ask him to join them for dinner. It is soon discovered that Elise can't make it, leaving her husband alone with his best friend he's found himself in love with.
> 
> What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol mention, just in case you need it. Nothing to concerning, I should think.

Dan Mandel was having a mediocre day. Not a day to shout from the streets in either jubilation or frustration, just… one that simply existed. Resting on the couch, Mister Mumbles laid on his chest as he halfheartedly scratched behind her ears-- his mind was far more focused on the senseless violence on the screen than any of the going ons outside his apartment’s walls.

It was after seeing Population Control Johnny break down the door to a terrorist organization, guns blazing, that Dan began speaking with the cat on his person.

“Do you think he’ll ever get a medal of honor for all the work he does? Without him, the world would be far more fraught with hostility than it actually is.”

This, of course, was said just as Johnny started laughing maniacally from the television-- having just filled the whole room with bullets. Mumbles, realizing she was being addressed, opened her eyes as she sat up to tilt her head curiously.

“Mrow?”

Dan blinked at this in surprise, before thinking it over.

“That’s… a good point. I don’t think I’ve seen him helping cats before. Even firemen rescue them from trees, and they  **HARDLY** do as much good as Johnny.”

Oh, if only he could choose where his tax money was funneled into-- getting rid of the blights on humanity would be his first choice, after all.

The small cat gave another noncommittal mewling noise, and stretched out comfortably over his chest, closing her eyes again. This, apparently, was incredibly offensive. Dan frowned.

“What do you  **_mean_ ** Felonious Feline is  _ better _ ? You can’t  **compare** the two,  **_she’s_ ** not even a  **hero** ! She’s got  _ felonious _ right in her title. She just, steals things, and makes really bad cat puns.”

Mr. Mumbles only purred in reply, and Dan couldn’t find it in himself to continue to berate her for her wrong opinions, instead turning his attention back to the television.

* * *

Meanwhile, Chris stood in his kitchen, the phone held in one hand, eyes on the wall clock as he munched on a sandwich. Elise stopped to watch him, arms crossed, leaned up against the kitchen entryway.

_ “Chris...” _

“I’m not stalling this time, I swear!” He replied quickly, shifting his attention back over to her and taking another bite of his lunch. “Dan’s show doesn’t go off for another two-point-eight minutes.”

“Oh.” Satisfied, Elise continued on into the room, sitting at the table. It couldn’t hurt to be there in case Chris froze up again. Chris gave her a smile, and a sigh.

“Are you  _ sure _ this is a good idea? You do remember the last time Dan was in a fancy restaurant, right?”

“How could I forget?” Elise replied, flatly. “But we’re running out of options here. I mean _ come on _ , if we get you two sitting across from each other in a fancy restaurant, wearing fancy clothes, with fancy champagne--  _ no candlelight, you know how Dan gets around fire _ \-- and he  **still** doesn’t get it’s a date? He might be a lost cause, Chris.”

“Yeah ... but  _ you’ll _ be there, too, won’t that make him think maybe it  **_isn’t_ ** a date?”

Elise smiled and shrugged, glancing away.

“Just consider me, _ emotional support. _ ”

“You mean a chaperone? I’m, kidding, I’m glad you’ll be there, honestly. ... Aaaand now I can call.”

* * *

Dan’s phone rang just as the end credits were rolling, and he lazily reached over to grab it without sitting up. It was Chris--  _ of course it was _ \-- Chris was the only person who ever called him ... other than that one telemarketer forever ago, and he was dead now.

“Hey Chris. What is it?” Blunt, but more polite than he’d been in the past.

“Nice to hear from you, too, Dan. Hey! Elise and me are going out to dinner tonight, and we thought, maybe, you’d like to join us?”

Upon hearing this, the short man thrust himself upright. The cat’s cries went ignored as she was thrown off his chest, Dan being far more focused on the conversation.

“What?  **Why?** This isn’t another intervention, is it? Because,  _ so help me _ , I will  **NOT** go back to anger management. Clearly  **THAT’S** all a big load of garbage!”

Especially if it ended with the counselor taking out her rage on  **HIM** of all people. 

Dan listened to Chris sighing in his ear.

“Why must you think everything I want to do for you has to be some sort of scheme?” Dan opened his mouth, prepared with a retort, when Chris must have somehow sensed this. “Just because  **YOU’D** use that trick doesn’t mean  **_I_ ** would. I wanted us to have a nice evening out, okay? That’s ALL.”

Dan was quiet as he took this all in. He was thankful no other person was there to see him, as his face contorted itself with conflicting emotions. Those dratted moths threatening to burst from his chest like a sci-fi monstrocity, his suspicions of something being amissed swatted at them ferociously to keep his feelings in check. It was then that whatever passed as a conscience inside his angered soul decided to come to Chris’ defense.

He  **HAD** been clingier than usual. The routine was that, outside their weekly meetup at burgerphile, that Chris was busy living a life. It was  **HE** who had to burst down the door to even get a sliver of companionship from the guy. Yet, ever since the whole situation with the impostor-- poltergeist nearly having procured his body for good-- Chris had been checking in on him. Spending more time with Dan than they had in YEARS.

_ ‘Dan, come with me and my wife to dinner.’ _

_ ‘Dan, let me take you to your favorite summer festival despite both us knowing I would faint at seeing blood come out of a papercut.’ _

_ ‘Dan, I  _ **_missed_ ** _ you.’ _

It was the last thought that made the swarm inside himself multiply, as Dan swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

“ _ Okay, _ ” Dan finally said, a bit softer at first before grasping at things to make it sound like his usual annoyed self. “ But you tell Elise I’m onto her. If this ends up being a spring loaded trap, telling me how she’s  _ expecting _ \--”

It was this that got Chris to interrupt him.

“Dan, we aren’t having a  **BABY!** ” There was the sound of another voice, muffled in the background and no doubt Elise putting in her two cents. Chris gave an awkward laugh. “I, heh, yeah… I  **meant** to say that tonight really isn’t about that. You’re  **safe** ,  _ I promise. _ ”

“I believe you. That was a test on your loyalty, and you passed. Congratulations.” 

Mostly because Dan knew if that was the case, it wouldn’t have come out as a celebration. Chris would be at his place, drinking, and going on and on about how he’s not ready for the torture of fatherhood. Still, better not to show his hand in that regard. 

“So, this place have a name, or what?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s called ... “ He squinted over at the laminated place mat his wife was helpfully pointing at. “Akrivós? I think it’s, Greek, or something.”

“Sounds ... fancy.” Dan replied, his tone making his statement sound more like a paranoid suspicion than a simple observation. Chris couldn’t see Dan narrow his eyes, but knew he’d done so just the same.

“Uh, yeah, Dan, it’s a  _ little _ fancy...”

“ **How** fancy?”

“... You’re, gonna wanna dress, nice. They won’t let you in without a tie.”

“A **_tie_ ** ! You  **know** how I feel about places like that, Chris.  _ Can’t we go somewhere else? _ ”

That last part sounded so genuinely tired and reproachful, Chris felt a pang in his chest that made him very much want to change their plans. He threw a glance over to his wife, and realized he had his hands tied, however. The decision had been made.

“Sorry, Dan. But it’s just for one night, and hey! Free food, am I right?”

After a short silence, Dan spat back a, “Fine.”

“Pick you up at six?”

“Yeah okay.” Dan hung up the phone. Mr. Mumbles meowed at him at his feet, and he turned his frown down at her.

“ **_No_ ** , it isn’t a  **_date_ ** , Mr. Mumbles. Chris is a married man.” Dan turned, and shook his head sadly, shuffling to his room and then to his closet, his cat following close behind.

“ _ That poor, misguided idiot. _ ”

Stepping over mountains of garbage and dirty clothes, he shoved aside various other things and set a glare upon the green beast which resided at the back of his closet.

“So we meet again .. _. harbinger of nightmares. _ ” Dan reached out and grabbed the green tuxedo that hung there, climbing back out with it. He sniffed it and faked a coughing gag of disdain.

“Uhg, it  **_still_ ** smells vaguely of wedding cake and regret.”

And the regret equally smelled of stale frosting, somehow.

* * *

It was two hours later when Chris Pearson drove to his home, dry cleaning in hand of the outfits he and his wife planned on wearing that night. Pulling up the driveway, it dawned on Chris something was amiss, as Elise’ volvo was nowhere to be seen.

Getting out of his car, house keys in one hand and outfits in the other, Chri pressed his bluetooth device he kept in his ear whenever he was driving.

“Hey Elise, just got home with dry cleaning. Did you just step out?”

Some grunting could be heard in the background, before the woman finally responded.

“Hi honey. I am _ so sorry _ , but work called me at the last minute. Apparently the boss’ computer is having trouble, and well,  _ we’d all be  _ **_dead_ ** if I didn't show up.”

Chris set the clothes onto their bed, sighing all the while. 

“Elise…  _ Please _ tell me this wasn’t your plan all along.”

More grunts, and the sound of glass breaking was heard through the phone.

“I did end up getting called in,” his wife said casually despite the noise. Though, Chris could sense a ‘but’ coming. “ **BUT** , I  **WAS** planning on leaving you five minutes into the dinner, yeah.”

“ **Why** do I end up in situations where people keep  _ trying to trick me? _ ” It came out more as a whine than anger, as Chris continued. “What happened to us being a team?”

“We  **ARE** , sweetie,” Elise cooed, “Just… consider this taking off your training wheels. Preparing you. I do it out of love, I swear.”

Chris was in the middle of stripping off his shirts-- ready to give in to his wife’s plan with a weary sigh-- when all thoughts were put on hold by the loud sickening CRACK heard from his earpiece. He winced, grabbing his ear, as concern was beginning to eat at him.

“Is… everything alright?”

There was a quaver of hesitance, before Elise started to laugh.

“Ha, yeah. Just the IT boys getting rowdy-- having trouble with programming,  _ you know how it is.  _ I should get going before they break something that’s  **ACTUALLY** valuable. Love you, hun, and I want to hear all about your date when I get home!”

“Yeah, you bet, ehhheh...” The line cut out and Chris’ smile instantly dropped. So he was doing this without Elise, alright, no problem; he’d gone out to eat with Dan plenty of times, this was no different. He winked into the mirror over the dresser and shot it with double finger guns.

“You’ve got this, buddy.”

He just wished his reflection looked like it believed him.

* * *

Chris pulled up on the other side of the street from Dan’s apartment, the other side already occupied by a few cars and quite a few bags of garbage waiting to be picked up. He loosened his tie slightly with a finger, suddenly feeling like it was choking him.

He had to agree with Dan on this one ... wearing fancy clothes was one of the worst things. They were uncomfortable and stifling, and usually meant someone just died. Still, Elise had told him this outfit-- white button up shirt under a black vest and a black bow tie and black pants-- made him look very handsome, and he’d believed her.

He made a move to get out, but stopped when he saw the door to Dan’s apartment open. Dan stepped out and Chris couldn’t help but smirk, noticing he was wearing that same bright green tuxedo he’d worn only one other time. He looked like a glowing green leprechaun against the dingy building he’d just come out of.

Chris watched as Dan stopped mid-way to the stairs to squint down at the car. Apparently pleased with what he saw, he sprinted the rest of the way, slowing only slightly on the stairs, before continuing his sprint. Dan poked his head through the open passenger window, scanning the interior.

“Where’s Elise? ... She’s in the trunk, isn’t she?  **_Please_ ** tell me she’s in the trunk.” Dan grinned and snickered like a preteen boy and Chris rolled his eyes.

“No, Dan, Elise  **isn’t** in the trunk. She got called into work, so I guess it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Thank the universe for small favors I guess, more front seat for me!” Dan opened the door and slid in, and only now did Chris notice the tiny bundle of unkempt fur in his friend’s lap. He frowned.

“Aw Dan, you  **can’t** bring  _ your cat _ into a **fancy restaurant.** .”

Dan shut his door and turned to regard Chris with a flat, unimpressed stare.

“There you go, using that word wrong again. I’m  **_going to_ ** ,  _ ergo, _ I  **_can_ ** . Try to keep up.”

“Dan,  _ no _ !” This was ridiculous, Chris had to put his foot down somewhere. The two of them fixed each other with a stubborn glare, but Dan’s broke first yet again, surprising Chris when a look of hurt replaced it.

“You would  **_really_ ** let her  **_starve_ ** , Chris?” Dan shoved the little cat into Chris’ face and he recoiled, immediately transfixed by the saddest two eyes he had ever witnessed. This homely little cat was a little bit  _ too _ good at looking sad and pathetic.

Chris glanced passed her to see Dan making a shockingly similar expression.

And, naturally like a moth flying straight into a flame, it hurt. 

“Nheeh, **fine** .” Chris sighed as Dan smiled at him triumphantly. “Maybe we can get away with it if you say she’s there for…  _ emotional support _ ? That’s a thing, right?”

“If that’s the case, I’ll consider using that excuse more often.” The shorter man pat his friend on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see my sense of ingenuity is  **FINALLY** rubbing off on ya.”

For a moment Chris had the thought that there were other things he would enjoy rubbed, when that was quickly thrown to the side with a thick cough. Looking at the road and doing his best to ignore the man so close to him, getting to the restaurant couldn’t come soon enough!

* * *

Glowing neon lights loomed menacingly over their heads as Chris reached valet parking. Stepping out of the car and handing his keys over to a young lad that barely looked old enough to drive, Chris could feel the sweat dripping down his neck-- the sensation alone causing a shiver to go through him. Akrivós would have seemed like too much, even on one of his better days-- and despite knowing the plan was to make this as obvious a date as possible...

**WELL** , a small part of himself was feeling the slightest bit peeved at his wife. She  **KNEW** he had performance anxiety. People don’t cure that by having the person center stage without practice!

Though… he supposed all the evenings out with Elise would maybe count as that?

Chris wasn’t allowed time to continue his reflecting, as Dan pushed past him to get towards the door.

“You coming or what?” What may have sounded rude to anyone else was surprisingly polite for him, as he threw a look over his shoulder-- still petting his cat. “Mr. Mumbles has been looking forward to salmon for HOURS now.”

Chris bit his tongue, decided not to voice his complaint of ordering an expensive dish  _ for the cat _ , and followed Dan inside. A small part of him was grateful, though, as Dan acting like Dan was making this a little easier.

You can put a couple of monkeys in fancy clothes, but they were still just monkeys.

The man at the front podium looked at them over his glasses, brow raised expectantly.

“Oh um, under Pearson?” Chris offered the man a shaky smile. Elise was usually the one who spoke to these guys. The man’s eyes shifted down to the book open on the podium.

“Ah, yes, the Pearsons. Party of ...” The man stared at the cat wearing the little bow tie in Dan’s arms. Mr. Mumbles stared back at him.

“...three?” he concluded, looking at Chris. Suddenly Chris wished he was anywhere but there. This was humiliating, they were going to get kicked out of there for sure.

““Yup, party of three,” Dan spoke up when Chris didn’t. “Chris, Dan, and Elise,” Dan pointed to each of them in turn. “All present and accounted for.” Then Dan leaned over to the man and loudly whispered, “ _ She has a condition, and she’s  _ **_very sensitive_ ** _ about it, so  _ **_don’t_ ** _ bring it up _ .”

The man stared at Dan for a few silent moments, and then stepped out from behind his station, gesturing through the dining area doors.

“Very well, if you’ll follow me to your table ...” Chris and Dan exchanged a look and followed after.

_ “Dan, don’t go telling people your cat is Elise _ !” Chris whispered to the man walking beside him.

_ “Why not? It  _ **_worked,_ ** _ didn’t it?” _

“ _ Well  _ **_yeah,_ ** _ somehow, but it’s  _ **_rude_ ** _.” _

“Aw, Mr. Mumbles doesn’t mind if it gets her free fish. Do you, Mr. Mumbles?”

“Meow!”

Chris bent down lower to be at eye level with the cat.

“Well, maybe you  **SHOULD** mind.  _ I don’t think-- _ ” It was then that Chris realized what he was doing, standing up straight so as to no longer be leveled with the animal. Chris touched his cheek worriedly. “Oh no, now  **I’M** talking to the cat.”

Yet again drawn into Dan’s orbit of crazy.  _ In the end, how much of him would be left to spare? _

That line of inquiry, however, would have to be addressed later-- as it was in that moment the three were done being escorted. The host nodded to himself, pleased with the two humans and pet having followed him towards a corner and out of the way of other patrons, no doubt, when he gave a final response.

“Please be seated, and your waiter will be with you shortly.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Finally feeling like he had eyes of judgement off of him, Chris was just starting to pull out his seat to sit down when he was interrupted by the sound of Dan clearing his throat.

“ **AHEM** .  _ Don’t be rude _ \-- pull out my seat.”

The taller man froze for a moment, dread chilling him to the bones as worry set in:  _ did Dan know what this was? _ Had he figured out Elise’s plan, and was now toying with him? Or was… was this all his own genuine attempt to enjoy what could have been a romantic evening between the two of them?

Chris fumbled with his words, as he grew defensive the longer he didn’t say anything.

“I,  _ w-what are you talking about _ , Dan? You’re capable of pulling out your  **own** chair.”

Dan threw him a glare.

“I’m holding Mumbles. Unless you’re expecting me to mysteriously grow a third appendage from  _ who knows where _ , you’re gonna have to do it.  **Geeze** . It’s like you’ve never seen somebody with child before!”

Relief washed over Chris. So Dan was still ignorant of the whole affair. That… that was _ good _ , right? Gave him time to strategize what he wanted to do-- how he planned on going forward. The relief was so strong, that Chris actually complied to the crazed demand.

Though, he made sure to voice his concerns.

“I don’t think you know what that phrase means…”

“Sure I do. Mr. Mumbles is being raised under the Mandel surname--  _ ergo _ , she is family. Following that, being so young, that makes her my child.” A pause. “Also,  **shut up** .”

Dan plopped unceremoniously into his seat, cat purring in his arms, as Chris pushed him closer to the table. Very much pleased, he grinned as his best friend was returning to his own seat.

“ **Thank you** , Chris. You’ll pick up on proper etiquette one of these days,  _ I believe in you _ .”

Chris gave him a look, but let it pass. He had said ‘thank you’. You had to appreciate the little things with someone like Dan. Chris' face lit up with a smile when he realized now would be a good time to mention something he’d been noticing ever since picking up his, uh.  **Date.**

“I really like that cologne you’re wearing, by the way! It smells like cake.”

“It  **_is_ ** cake. Remember? I fell into it at Hortense’s wedding?”

“ _ Oh. _ ..” Chris felt awful, he had once again managed to shove his foot in his mouth, dredging up no-doubt painful memories. He was relieved when their waiter stopped to stand by their table. Up until said waiter set a champagne bottle in front of both of them, and proceeded to pour them each a glass.

“Your champagne, gentlemen.”

“Uh! We definitely didn’t order any champagne. Sir.” Chris replied, flashing a nervous, embarrassed smile at Dan.

“It was requested when the reservation was made,  _ sir. _ ” The waiter set the rest of the bottle on the table, handed them their menus, told them to enjoy, then left.

Well, here it was, if Dan had missed any other indication this was a date, there was no way he was going to miss it now.  _ Suddenly it was a little warm in here _ , wasn’t it? Was Chris panicking?  _ Maybe a little. _

“Oh, well, I guess Elise must have, requested it, might as well, enjoy it I suppose...” Chris laughed a little too loudly, in an embarrassingly obvious forced manner. Dan was looking at him funny from across the table. Chris cleared his throat and looked away from that judging stare. “Oh, this is. I can’t remember the last time we drank together.”

“How convenient for you.”

Chris’ heart sank like a stone, and he glanced back over to see Dan huddled behind his open menu. All that could be seen from behind the menu was the top of the shorter man’s unkempt hair and the swishing of Mr. Mumbles’ tail.

Chris slinked behind his own menu, looking sadly over a language he couldn’t read, as Dan muttered to the cat from the other side of the table.

“Yeah, I know. Chris chose a restaurant nobody can read from.”

“Mew!”

“ _ What do you mean ‘ _ **_you_ ** _ can read it’ _ ?” Dan asked incredulously. “ That doesn’t make any sense, you were born in L.A.!”

“Mrrp mew!” This was followed by the sounds of nails on the hard plastic casing of the menu pages, no doubt the cat indicating to an item she planned on ordering. Dan hummed in thought.

“‘Solomós’? I suppose that kind of sounds like salmon.” Purring followed, as the shorter man gave his pet affection. “You continue to be one smart kitty. Must get it from  **my** side of the family”

By this point Chris couldn’t remain silent any longer: biting his lip, not longer able to lock away his thoughts, he put down his menu and blurted out:

“What does that even  **imply** , that you dated a cat at some point?”

Dan uncovered his face, giving his friend an unimpressed expression.

“If I did, I’m sure  **they** would have treated me better than  **most** people I know. Scamming for money, outsmarting the cops, romantic rendezvous in alley ways…”

Chris raised a brow, a smile threatening to break through.

“Isn’t that the plot to Top Cat? … Are you  **actually** imagining yourself dating a cartoon cat right now?”

“Hey! We  _ all  _ had our childhood celebrity crushes ...” Dan pointed an accusatory finger at Chris. “So you can  **drop** the  _ judgemental tone, _ **Chris** .” The menu went back up and Chris rolled his eyes.

“Fassolakia Lathera? What’s that?” Chris glanced over, but realized Dan wasn’t addressing him.

“Meow.”

“Vegetables?! Gross. Never mind. What about this?”

“ _ Mrooow.. _ .”

“Vegetables again?! Seriously! Chris I swear, if this is some kind of Vegan restaurant, I’m going to--”

“Meow!”

Dan had glanced up to berate Chris, but now Mr. Mumbles seemed to be pointing at something else on the menu with her paw, and Dan’s attention followed it.

“Pork Souvlaki? I know what  _ pork _ is!” His pleased grin didn’t last long, as he squinted at the menu. “Wait, is that dairy free...?”

Chris, meanwhile, had long since given up trying to read his own menu, instead being far more interested in the display taking place across from him. He sipped his drink, hoping to numb the creeping, eerie realization that maybe,  _ just maybe _ , Dan really  **was** able to communicate with his cat.

Dan’s menu suddenly flopped forward onto the table, and there was a moment of alarm when sharp green eyes met his own, and Chris realized he’d been caught staring. Looking away seemed to only make it more obvious that the staring had been  _ somewhat _ intentional, when Dan scoffed.

“You don’t need to  **do** that.”

At this, the taller man whipped his head back to look at him, brows furrowed with concern.

“Um… Do **what** exactly?” Chris asked somewhat innocently, though he could already feel the sweat dripping down his back once more. Dan seemed peeved by this answer.

“Checking up on me,  _ obviously _ . I don’t know how many times I need to tell you ‘I’m fine’ until you get it into that thick skull of yours. You can drop the mother hen act: I’m not  **dying** .”

Hearing this made a part of Chris feel like he was crumbling-- the wall of anxiety that had surrounded himself disappearing as he narrowed his focus on Dan’s words. Sadness etched its way into his very being, as he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You really believe that, don’t you? That I’m only here to keep you out of trouble, like an unpaid babysitter.” Chris looked down into his glass of wine, his yellowed reflection gazing back at him through cascading bubbles and foam. “While I will admit I  _ do _ sometimes feel like I’m helping keep some of your worst actions at bay, that’s not what’s been going on. That’s not what  **THIS** is.”

The taller man forced himself to look back at Dan, eyes imploring him to understand.

“ _ Of course _ I worry about you. But it hasn’t been more since, well….  _ anyways _ , it hasn’t been  **more** . If anything, I guess, in a way, none of this has been about your feelings. It’s been about mine. About wanting to see you, because I wanted to see you. We’ve been friends since high school, Dan-- you’d think by now you’d realize I enjoy being around you. You’re not  **LIKE** everyone else, and that makes me…”

_ ‘Drawn to you’ _ felt too…  **intense.** True, but too much too fast might scare the other man out of the conversation altogether. Chris sighed, changing the subject a bit.

“In any case, if I’m moving too much in your space,  _ I’m sorry _ . You can always tell me ‘no’, Dan. You, heh, tend to be good at doing that any other time. Just know I can’t know what you’re feeling if you don’t  _ tell  _ me.”

A problem both of them shared, admittedly.

Dan fixed the table in front of him with a hard glare, conflicting feelings making it difficult to look at Chris. Once again, he felt as if he was fighting a war with himself. His crippling distrust and paranoia dueling with his soft, mushy feelings for his best friend.

The last time Dan had been told he was wanted around, it had been a ruse to procure his deviled eggs recipe. He’d let his guard down, and had been kicked in the face for it. But this hadn’t been a script Chris was reciting. No regurgitated nonsense Elise had fed him for whatever reason. Chris had performance anxiety, and had this been planned, he would have been tripping and stumbling over his words like a fool.

_ Chris wasn’t lying _ , and that, perhaps, was the worst part.

“It _is_ **nice** being invited...” Dan began slowly, cautiously, eyes wandering everywhere but at Chris, fingertips drumming distractedly against the tabletop. He steeled his nerves and looked at him now, eyes narrowing in a familiarly suspicious manner.

“But why  _ now _ ? Answer me  **that.** ”

“... What? What do you **mean** _why now_ , I’m not the one who made the reservation. If you were **busy** tonight, you could have just--”

“That isn’t what I’m talking about  _ and I think you know that _ . Chris, you said it yourself,  _ we’ve been friends for a very long time _ . Your  _ recent hospitality _ has awful convenient timing for,  **_allegedly,_ ** having  **nothing** to do with ‘ _ the incident _ ’.”

Oof. Chris inwardly winced, scratching the side of his head and glancing away.

“Oh ... yeah it, it might have a little to do with that, actually, but it’s--”

**_“I knew it_ ** ! Chris,  _ you listen to me. _ If this is all some sort of fear and guilt complex brought on by almost losing your best friend to a denizen of the underworld, **_then so be it_ ** .”

“Dan, that isn’t it at all, I just  **told** you-!”

“ _ But if  _ **_you think_ ** _ -” _ Dan stood now, baring his teeth in a deadly scowl and leaning over the table as if he meant to bite Chris rather than simply shout angrily at him. “ **_You can use my misguided feelings to stroke your own ego, only to go back home to your coddling wife, you-who-who’ve got another thing coming, pal!”_ **

Chris Pearson found himself shrinking in his seat, not once thinking of scolding the man standing on the table as a sense of guilt washed over him. Despite having talked this all out with his wife, despite hearing how perfectly  _ acceptable _ it was for him to find himself having feelings for the two most important people in his life… 

Dan’s accusation got to him, it  _ really  _ did.

“Dan, please… It’s not that.” He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice, and that made him wilt more as Dan growled. “ If you’d sit down, we can talk about what this  _ really _ is.  **Honest!** ”

This was it, the tides were turning and Chris could see his friend was considering the request (even as Mr. Mumbles bat at his shoelaces as a would-be distraction). Hope and fear ran amok inside him, as Chris constantly thought to himself ‘ _ I can do this, I can do this _ ’ and every so often ‘ _ Oh, I can  _ **_NOT_ ** ’. 

Chris would never get the opportunity either way, as a woman from a neary table-- wearing a winter minks scarf despite it being the middle of summer-- called over in a rather snooty tone:

“SIR, some of us are  **TRYING** to enjoy our evenings. If you  _ must _ argue, do it outside with the other _ riff raff _ .”

Naturally, this was the worst thing she could have said, as the short man jumped off their table and started stomping towards her and her presumed-husband.

“ **RIFF RAFF?** Now you listen to  **ME** ,  _ you scrutinizing shrew _ , I got your evening  **RIGHT HERE** !”

Chris didn’t have any time to stop him-- as the moment he attempted to get up from his seat, Dan had already grabbed the underside of their table and violently flipped it. The couple cried out in alarm as their dinner went flying, alfredo landing all over the woman and her expensive furs.

“Look what you’ve  **DONE** !” The wife screamed, flailing her arms in a pathetic attempt to shake off the pasta. 

“You’ll  **PAY** for this, sir!” The husband retorted, his suit equally ruined.

By this point Chris was grabbing Dan’s shoulders, trying to gently pull him back as he apologized to the couple.

“ _ I am  _ **_so_ ** _ sorry _ . Dan, he, he sometimes  **acts** without thinking. I’ll pay for your dry cleaning and meal--  _ no one needs to make this a  _ **_bigger deal_ ** _ than it already is _ .”

The husband, grey haired and already showing his age, was rolling up his sleeves-- it was clear the gentleman had plans to make the situation bigger,  _ and then some _ .

And, to Chris’ alarm, Dan seemed ready and willing to help make that happen, wrenching out of his grasp to charge at the elderly man. But Chris was used to this, his reflexes sharp in these situations, and managed to grab his date by the back of his suit collar and pull him back-- growling and swiping at the air like an angered badger.

The hero which came to their rescue that day wore no cape, but a butler uniform. A rather large fellow, suit straining against his form, stepped in between the two, hands held politely behind his back.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,  _ but I’m going to have to ask you to  _ **_leave_ ** .” The man informed Chris and Dan, his words polite, his tone _ harsh _ . 

A part of Chris -- mainly his stomach part -- really wanted to plead with the man to let them stay and eat, promise to be good, but the rest of him thought against it. Looking around at the unkind looks they were being given from everyone around them, the state of the table Dan had flipped over, there was really no sense in humiliating themselves even further. He would have gladly, if he thought it would work and get them fed, but ...

“Yes, sir ... we apologize. We’re going.” Chris sighed. “Come on, Dan, let’s go.”

“ **_I’m_ ** not going  **anywhere** until this man  **apologizes** for  _ ruining our dinner _ !” Dan shouted, refusing to budge. This earned a “I beg your pardon!” from the elderly gentleman.

Chris, too weary to argue anymore that night, picked Dan up and tucked him under his arm like he was a piece of luggage, distantly thankful, and not for the first time, that Dan was such a small man.

“Let me  **go,** Chris! I can  **_take him_ ** !”

But Chris did not comply, turning and heading toward the exit door. The Dan-shaped luggage struggled only briefly after that, before going limp, arms dangling below him, face set with an expression of cold hatred, never breaking eye contact with the elderly man who had threatened him.

Dan reached out to knock a champagne glass off their table as they passed. Chris turned his walk into a jog when he heard the sound of breaking glass. Mr. Mumbles hopped off the table and lapped at the spilled drink for a moment before following after.

The door behind them gave a heavy and loud  **SNAP!** as it closed-- giving the moment a heavy sense of finality. Chris exhaled slowly, the teen at valet parking already heading off upon seeing them. Slumping against the podium, feeling tired beyond his years, Chris murmured to himself:

“ _ Well, that’s yet another place to add to my growing list of restaurants I can  _ **_never_ ** _ return to.. _ .”

Dan, after picking up his cat, scoffed at hearing this.

“I keep telling you, Chris, any place that tries to sell itself as being extravagant isn’t worth the time of day. Just look at the jerks  **THIS** place serves!”

The taller man-- still looking trodden from the whole ordeal-- merely gazed at his friend, not saying a word. He didn’t get it,  _ of course Dan didn’t _ . He had no way of knowing that for the first time, since having come to terms with his feelings, Chris had felt ready to confess everything. Sure, it was a bit rocky--  _ what wasn’t with the miniature maniac? _ \-- but he was  **READY** . He had  **found** his moment,  _ he was so close _ . He was ready to conquer his trepidations and tell Dan  **EVERYTHING** .

Then… a typical Dan incident occurred.

Was that what his life was going to continue to be? A  _ Dan’s Inferno _ of traversing through every level of grief, until-- in the end-- Dan might end up rejecting him all the same?

It was enough to make Chris shut his eyes, wincing at the sudden ache the very thought gave him.

Seeing Chris this upset over missing out on dinner was sad, and not just in the pathetic sort of way. A sense of wary concern drowned out the lingering rage as Dan watched his friend mourn the loss of food, as if he may never eat again.

“Hey there, buddy...” Dan approached Chris, laying a comforting hand on his back. “You wanna head on over to Burgerphile instead? They have way better service, anyway.”

Chris’ stomach gurgled and he sighed, turning a weary and short-lived smile on Dan.

“Well, we  **_do_ ** still need to eat. Alright, come on.”

Chris stuffed his hands into his pockets and slumped, trudging toward the valet booth, and Dan watched him go.

“Wow, I’ve  _ never _ seen Chris so downtrodden at the prospect of  **food** before, Mr. Mumbles.”

“ _ Mrooow.. _ .” Mr. Mumbles meowed back, sadly.

“Do you think it was something I said?”

“Meow.”

“You could have at least  **pretended** to think about it for a minute.”

Dan followed after when he spotted their ride pull up to the curb.

* * *

Fat droplets of rain splattered against the windshield as they drove, the repetitious sound filling the would-be silence of the car. The sky had darkened soon after they’d left, seemingly in accordance with Chris’ obviously dour mood.

“We should’ve just gone to Burgerphile in the first place. I don’t know why Elise has to make everything so complicated.”

Chris tiredly glanced over at Dan, who’d just shattered the melancholic quiet he’d been stewing in. He wanted to point out it was Dan who had been making things more complicated than they had to be, but was too mentally exhausted to argue.

“Mhm.”

That nagging sense that Dan had somehow done something wrong was still eating at him, as he continued to fight it with ranting.

“You’re always going on how you hate spending so much, why would she think to go to  **ONE** place near us that wants to pick your pockets for everything you’re worth?” Chris hadn’t responded to this, eyes focused on the road, as the man in the passenger seat carried on. “And furthermore, that place isn’t  _ us _ . You can’t tell me you were  **_THRILLED_ ** to be in such a stuffy place, were you?”

This did make Chris momentarily look at him, that defeated expression still present, as he couldn’t help but think: ‘I was thrilled to be with  _ you _ ’.

Still, he said nothing in the end.

This was the last straw for Dan, who had been petting Mumbles from the nervousness he felt at his friend’s silence. Bringing his cat closer to his person, anxiety got the better of him as he began hollering.

“What, are you  **MAD** at me? You saw what those pillocks did! They  **STARTED** it!”

By this point the car was entering the Burgerphile parking lot. Chris turned, finding a place as close to the door as he could, before shutting off the vehicle. It was only then that the taller man finally addressed his friend.

“I’m not mad at you, Dan. I’m…  **disappointed** _. _ ” Feeling in the backseat for an umbrella, he carried on, not being able to look the other in the eyes. “I wanted tonight to go well, okay? That’s all.”

Chris then opened his door and stepped out, closing it behind him as he didn’t even wait for a response. And it was this reaction that had Dan blink in confusion. What… did  **THAT** mean? Why would he be disappointed? Why did dinner need to go so well, anyhow? Outside of looking ridiculous in their getup, what was  **DIFFERENT** about tonight than any other day of the week?

These were the thoughts that plagued Dan’s mind as he was startled by the passenger door opening-- Chris waiting there, holding the umbrella out so Mumbles and him wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

“ **_... Thanks._ ** ” Dan grumbled, climbing out of the car as the three of them trudged onward. That vexing warmth returned to him as Chris and his umbrella loomed overhead-- arms grazing as they walked.

‘ _ Stupid Chris, _ ‘ Dan thought to himself, busy looking at his shoes even as his friend opened the door to the restaurant, “ _ being all unnecessarily cryptic… _ ”

* * *

Chris knew he had a problem. He knew emotional eating wasn’t healthy, not physically nor mentally. But it brought him comfort when he needed it. Food was easy, food was easy to understand. Food was always there for you, and food never judged you.

“Are you  **nuzzling** your  _ burger _ ?”

Chris came back to himself, freezing mid-nuzzle, eyes snapping open. His eyes darted over to Dan, who was staring at him from across the table.

“...No?” Chris brought his food away from his face to unwrap it, the discarded paper joining the wrapper from the first burger he’d already eaten. “Maybe you were right, Dan. This place really is more ...  _ us _ .” He bit into his food, the familiar atmosphere and sustenance already lifting his mood. He glanced over through the window, half expecting to see a man taking a leak out there for some reason. But there was none. Only the traffic, only the dreary rainy day.

Only his own sad, tired reflection.

“Of course I’m right, when have I  **ever** not been right?”

Chris opened his mouth to reply instantly, only to have Dan’s balled up burger wrapper bounce off his face. Another disorienting flash of deja vu.

“Shut up. Anyway, I think this place is healthier for Mr. Mumbles, too. I think she got into my drink when I wasn’t looking.”

They both looked over to the cat sprawled out on the table on her stomach, all for legs splayed as if she were a breathing, purring bear rug. 

Chris actually managed a small smile at this in between bites. At least that was one aspect different from his dream.

“Always a shame to see such a young cat hitting the milk saucers.” Chris snarked. Dan scowled.

“It’s one thing when you take out your sass on  _ me _ , mister, but you  _ know _ Mr. Mumbles is practically a kitten.  _ You.  _ **_Will._ ** _ Treat her. With.  _ **_RESPECT._ ** ”

This was punctuated, quite literally, with a jab into Chris’ forehead as he leaned across the table. The taller man tried to flinch back-- not an easy feat in their small booth-- as he used his free hand to swat away the offender.

“Ow, ow-- **OKAY.** _Point taken._ ” Dan poked him again for good measure, before leaning back into his seat-- feeling satisfied that things seemed to finally be back on track. Chris sighed, bending his head downwards as he pretended to be focused on his meal. In actuality, he was sneaking a glance at his friend through his lashes-- debating on asking a question that was on his mind.

“Dan… You don’t  _ really _ think I’m trying to…  **take advantage** of knowing your feelings? For _ me _ , that is.” Chris squeezed his burger slightly, soft enough to test its resistance without ruining it. He continued, fighting his instinct to sink under the table in hiding. “Because… I wanted to say I’m sorry if I gave off that impression. That hasn’t been my intent,  _ at all. _ ”

Dan stared for a moment, brow raised in absolute confusion as to what in the world Chris was even talking about. Realization dawned on his face as he recalled their little tiff earlier.

“ _ Oohh _ , is  **that** what this whole mope-fest has been about? You’re still  **thinking** about that?”

“Well,  **_yeah_ ** . What you said was  **hurtful** , Dan. Words can  _ hurt _ !” Chris whined, suddenly feeling mildly defensive. Dan’s snickering wasn’t helping ease that feeling, either.

“Chris, I  **_know_ ** that’s not what’s going on here.”

“...You do?” Chris asked, both hopeful and wary about what that actually meant.

“Sure! Besides, if you  **were** ‘ _ taking advantage of my feelings _ ’,” Dan did the air-quotes and everything here. “this day would have ended  **a lot** differently. And in the backseat of your car, most likely.”

Suddenly, Chris was choking on his food, coughing and gagging, pounding on his chest with a fist, scrambling for his drink. Dan watched his friend as he had this fit, Chris’ face red from either embarrassment or from choking to death, he couldn’t tell. But it had been a satisfying reaction, just the same.

“ _ That is  _ **_not_ ** _ what I meant, Dan! _ ” Chris hissed at him once he’d recovered, glancing around to make sure no one had heard that. Once Dan was sure Chris was finished and didn’t require medical attention, he continued as if Chris hadn’t scolded him at all, propping one elbow onto the table as he sipped from his drink, casually.

“It’s just,  _ in my experience _ , when someone showers me with niceties out of nowhere, it’s  **_usually_ ** because they  **want** something. My money, my identity, my cat,  _ my deviled eggs recipe _ , you get the picture.”

He glanced over at Chris to see if he was following, and Chris, likely still recovering from almost dying, only nodded.

“But, I don’t have anything you could  **possibly** want. And so, I must conclude,  **_against all odds_ ** , that your recent gestures of camaraderie are, in fact, genuine.”

Relief washed over Chris, as rigid and tighten shoulders from worry instantly relaxed with a long exhale.  _ Of course.  _ While it was hard to tell what Dan would decide to focus on with his excessive grudges-- rarely had things the man had yelled at  **HIM** stuck around long enough to be remembered. Not since their fight at Space Monkey Rock had anything  **THAT** hateful been aimed in his direction. 

And even then… in all fairness, it had been  _ his _ own idea to challenge Dan in the first place.

Chris pushed those memories to the side-- he wasn’t proud of how he had reacted then, after all-- as he managed to shake off the look of dread and bounce back to his usual chipper self.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that, Dan. I’d like to hope it might be an upward trend of showing you that people can and do like having you around.”

Dan shrugged.

“Eh, I wouldn’t be placing any big bucks on that race horse-- I still think people, as a whole, aren’t worth saving. And I’ll be more than welcoming when the alien overlords take out the stain that is humanity’s impression on the rest of the universe. “

It was here he stood up, wiping his hands on suit without a care in the world for the grease he left there. 

“BUT… I  _ suppose _ I can say there’s at least  _ one _ person out there I might consider staging a coup with just to save our unworthy hydes.” Dan smiled, as he bent over to pick Mr. Mumbles off the tiled floor. “And one kitty, that is.”

“Mrow?” Mumbles chirped, eyes half lidded in a drunken stupor. Chris watched as whatever Dan thought she said was at least mildly amusing.

“ _ Of course _ I was talking about you, Mumbles. What other cats do you think I  **KNOW** ?” 

It was then Dan turned his attention back onto Chris, nodding his head towards Burgerphile’s doors.

“C’mon, Chris, I think we could both use some dessert. And I know of no place more fitting than Ninja Dave’s.”

Chris had practically leapt out of the booth upon hearing this, stuffing the rest of his burger in his mouth as he gathered up all the garbage.

“ _ Really? _ ” He asked, genuinely surprised by Dan’s charitable nature. The shorter man laughed.

“Of course, buddy. With  _ your _ money.”

“ _ Oh… _ ”

That had, indeed, felt more on brand for Dan. Yet, Chris Pearson couldn’t find it in himself to mind all that much, as he and his best friend (and his cat) exited the restaurant. Especially as--the larger man holding the umbrella-- Dan gently placed a hand on his lower back, escorting them all back to Chris’ car.

All in all… maybe their date had gone better than he thought.


	7. Dan VS. Counting Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the evening out with Chris, Dan heads for bed.
> 
> He'll soon wish he hadn't.

It was close to midnight by the time Dan Mandel had stumbled through his apartment door, one hand juggling a sloshed kitten and the other his keys. Dan couldn’t help the pep in his step, rear bumping the door closed as he made his way towards the bedroom. It felt… **strange** how chipper the man felt. Not that he wasn’t averse to the likes of happiness, mind you. Just that usually the feeling was followed after having completed one of his schemes-- that satisfaction one has after leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. 

No, there had been no burned building. No explosives required. And outside of a bit of a mess, via a flipped table, hardly any trouble had been had.

The smile spread on Dan’s face, as he recalled the last moment at Ninja Dave’s before returning home-- how utterly delighted Chris had been from the simple act of letting him have the last chocolate chip cookie. _What an_ **_idiot_ ** _._ It’ll be something to see what that animal was like after **REALLY** starving. He bet Chris would eat his own arm off before going a week without eating even the tiniest moresol.

“Still, “ Dan said aloud to himself as he set Mumbles down on the bed,” I _suppose_ it doesn’t hurt to give Chris a treat every once in a while. It’s what keeps him loyal, ya know.”

Mister Mumbles said nothing in immediate reply, as the weight of her head became too much to bear. It was with a plop to her side that she spread out against the softness of the bed, rolling onto her back to show her exposed belly.

Dan, being in a benevolent mood, gave into the want for pets, even as he began to slip off his tie.

“You enjoyed yourself too, didn’t you?”The human cooed. “ _Thinking you’re_ **_people_ ** _and getting tipsy on tipple._ ”

Mr. Mumbles only gave a lazy purr in response. He decided not to worry too much about letting his child get drunk; because-- for all his scolding Chris earlier about insulting a poor, defenseless kitten-- Dan had no way of knowing how old Mr. Mumbles was. They’d met in kitty prison, and he’d never once thought to ask her about her possibly sordid past. It just didn’t seem **right.** Whoever she’d been before, she was _his_ kitty now, and that was all that really mattered to him.

By now he had changed into his nightwear-- that was, stripped down to his boxer shorts. He frowned at the balled up suit in his arms, before tossing it in the corner to join the rest of the dirty clothes he may or may not get around to washing one day.

“ _Good riddance_ . If I never have to wear that thing again, it’ll be **too soon**.” Dan began crawling into bed, slipping under the blanket, when his cat replied with a,

“ _Brrrmp_.”

“Well, _yeah,_ of course **_Chris_ ** liked it, it smelled like _stale cake._ That guy'll drool over **anything** if it has _cake_ on it.” A pause, a frown. “Well, not _anything_.”

Another pause, an impish grin, eyes bashfully averted to the corner.

“ **Maybe** anything. _Hmm_.”

But that was a thought for future contemplation, for now Dan was tired, and it was late. He snuggled in under his covers, and wished his cat a good night through a yawn.

For once, he lay his head down with a smile on his face, and although it felt wrong somehow, a satisfied calm in his core. Perhaps that was why, for the first time in too many years, sleep found him quickly that night.

* * *

The darkness of his mind was soon met with a vibrant warmth as dream Dan opened his eyes.

The soft glow of cascading hues lit up Dan’s face as he stared into the distance, as he was on a hill on the outskirts of town. What one would usually deem as a response to a lovely sunset, was not the current case-- as the gremlin of a man was busy watching Los Angelous burn to cinders. While the dream had not supplied him with the means to know what had transpired to lead to such an event, Dan assumed-- just like most things-- he must have been to blame.

This pleased him just as much as the comfortable feeling of his head resting in a lap-- a hand casually caressing the messy fringe on his forehead. He didn’t need to look to know who was there-- as he suppressed his want to sigh and sink deeper into his pillow.

“You’re missing the show, you know.” Dan muttered in a low rumble, practically purring as Chris fumbled with his hair. “ If you listen hard enough, you can hear the sounds of soda cans and hot dogs exploding.”

While this was something that would happen in a real fire-- the heat becoming too much too fast and causing pockets of air-- what filled the air was that of the sounds of the Arachnid Clown God that had lived at the carnival. High alien schrills of panic were the ballad of the night, as Dan knew soon it would be dead once more.

It was always nice to relive a past victory, after all.

“I’m not missing it!” He heard Chris answer. “I just prefer watching it through the reflection in your eyes. I could watch the fire dance in them for hours.”

Initial surprise was quickly overtaken by a giddy awkwardness Dan hadn’t felt since his school years, and he let out a half-suppressed chortle that tapered off into a giggle.

“Oh, **_you_ ** .” Dan sighed. “Seriously, don’t make this _weird_ , Chris.”

“I **am** being serious! You’re just, really awesome, Dan. I don’t know why I never noticed before.”

Dan lazily lifted his gaze from the blazing city, up to the sparkling blue eyes of his best friend. The warm butterflies rose up in a swarm, and while normally this sense of vulnerability would have made Dan incredibly uncomfortable, things were different now. _It was_ **_safe_ ** _here._ No judgement.

“Yeah, well, _you know_...” Dan grinned and shrugged, enjoying the praise and not necessarily disagreeing with the assessment. 

“In fact ... you’re **so** awesome, I’m going home after this and tell Elise I want a divorce! Then you and I can go find **_more_ ** places and things to burn to the ground!”

The butterfly swarm suddenly became so restless, Dan thought he just might choke on them. He sat up and turned, kneeling in front of Chris now, searching his expression for any indication this was a joke.

“You mean it?” He asked, hopefully.

“Every word of it! _Just you and me_. You’re all I need to be happy.”

Dan sniffled, unable to hide or suppress his emotions here. In fact there were emotions cascading down his face in rivulets now, and come morning, he would find with mild disgust they’d been quite real, his face stiff with their dried remnants.

“ _Aw, Chris_ ...”

“ _Oh, Dan_!”

This was the part where they kissed, except that never happened this time.

“Cut, cut , _oh_ my goodness, that was **just** , terrible.”

Every one of those swarming butterflies had suddenly turned to lead at once, filling Dan’s core with cold, heavy fear and dread. That voice, a voice he never thought he’d have to hear again. Dan scanned the area in a panic, but saw no one. He looked back at Chris to see his best friend smiling dumbly back at him like nothing was wrong.

“Do you take constructive criticism, by any chance, Danno? Because, boy! For someone apparently in love with his best friend, _you don’t seem to know him_ **_at all_ ** _.”_

Dan turned around then, and gasped when he finally found the intruder in his mind. The monster he’d locked away months ago now hovered over the burning city, his grinning visage lit by the hellfire flames below.

“ **YOU** ,” Dan cried up to the spectre, scrambling out of the figment Chris’ lap as if he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I thought my mind _imprisoned_ you!”

The impostor beamed at this, even as he rolled his eyes and shook his head from amusement.

“You see, Dan, you most certainly **DID** do that. Didn’t get rid of me though-- I assume that was your plan? _Cute._ I must give you credit for that, thinking that the horrors of your subconscious would destroy what was left of me.” 

Here the man chuckled, floating around the real Dan as his wispy frame grazed him. The Impostor hovered his way behind Chris, who just sat there the same way he had before-- truly paused as if the dream had been a scene from a film. Placing a hand on the figment’s shoulder, he looked Dan in the eyes as his grin grew-- showing far more teeth than Dan thought he’d ever seen from a living being.

“Unfortunately, you forgot one thing. And **boy** , _is it a doozy!_ ”

Impostor Dan laughed again, before it broke off into nothing. The smile slipped on one side as all cheerfulness left the phantom. 

“ _I was in your head looong before I was_ **_dead_ ** _._ ”

The Impostor’s hand squeezed the fake Chris’ shoulder, and, to Dan’s horror, caused him to shatter from existence. 

Dan could only watch as his best friend crumbled to the ground, other Dan kicking the pile aside as he stepped closer to the one being in all the world he utterly despised. The real Dan watched as the hatred left the ghost’s face just as quickly as it came-- showing that same pleased and casual demeanor he always had.

In some ways… that was _far_ worse.

“But seriously ...” Dan recoiled when the specter slung an arm around his shoulders, only to be pulled back roughly and effortlessly.

“You didn’t **really** think that was anywhere close to being Chris, did you? _Come ooon_.” Dan frowned at the rubble his impostor was gesturing toward with his free hand, but said nothing.

“You and I **both** know the _real_ Chris only hangs out with you out of guilty obligation. _I mean_ ** _really_** ... who could ever love such a hateful little troll like **_you_**?”

Anger, comforting in its familiarity, boiled up inside of Dan. He shoved the other man away, creating as much distance as possible.

“ **How** **_dare_ ** **you insult me in my own brain!** ” Dan shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him. He had hoped to see fear, or even surprise in his clone, but all he got was a smug smile.

“Y’know, the way **_I_ ** see it, Dan, this isn’t **your** mind anymore. It’s _ours_ . The **moment** you trapped me here, we became roommates! Brain buddies! **_Cellmates_ **.”

The realization he was suddenly wearing a black and white striped outfit, like those seen in old cartoons, was admittedly unnerving for Dan.

“Ohh, that is unfortunate.” the specter shook his head. “Horizontal stripes do **_not_ **compliment your figure, Dan.”

Dan didn’t like being toyed with, manipulated, _made a fool of._ And yet, here he was, this jerk’s plaything. But this was Dan’s domain, his rules. He had all he needed to get rid of this pest once and for all.

“ **_Stop_ ** **that!** ” Dan snapped, wiping the stripes away from his clothes impatiently, revealing his usual attire beneath. “This **is** my brain! You are **powerless** ! **And I banish thee, hellspawn,** **_back to the darkness whence you came!”_ **

The other Dan began to chuckle, but it was short lived, as smoke began to rise from his person. Surprise overtook the specter, and then panic as his visage began to melt and fade before Dan’s eyes.

“Wait, **_no_ ** ! _Not again_ ! You **monster**! I’m melting, melting!”

Dan watched in fascination as his enemy faded away completely, his cries of anguish following him. When he was entirely gone, Dan let out a triumphant

**_“Ha!”_ **

“ _Juuust kidding._ ” And just like that the thing was back, leaning an arm on Dan’s shoulder like they’d been best pals for years. “Can you **imagine** , _if it was that easy? Oh my._ ”

Dan growled and grit his teeth, stumbling away and slapping at the creep ungracefully.

 **_“I’ll kill you_ **!” Dan charged and leapt, ready and willing to pounce on his doppelganger and rip him apart, fueled by blind rage. He soon found himself on the ground, though, unsure of what had just happened.

“Oh-ho! Oh. It’s a little late for that, Dan, you already did that! Tell me, how’s that working out for you?” He was being lifted off the ground now by the back of his shirt, and set back down on his feet. The arm was back around his shoulders, and the only thing which ultimately quelled his urge to bite was the new Chris figment standing before them, smiling blankly as the first one had.

“Actually, don’t bother answering that. Now! Pay close attention, Cupcake, you might even **learn** something! One of my past identities was a director, you know. You watch and let me know if this doesn’t sound more like what the **real** Chris might say, hm?”

With a snap from the Impostor, the scene was set in motion. Clouded eyes cleared, and Chris was no longer smiling. Dan’s insides twisted unexpectedly as the other man’s visage became that of what he had seen earlier that evening: _disappointment_. 

“You can’t keep _doing_ this, Dan.” 

Chris looked past the Dan’s. It was in that same moment the real McCoy had noticed they were no longer outside with his fiery destruction. No, instead they were back at the horrible fancy restaurant, surrounded by icy glares and the mess he’d left them with. Dread set in as Dan looked down to see he was back in that awful green suit.

Chris continued, as if none of the change phased him.

“All I wanted was a night to forget. To make things _normal_ for us again.”

“We _were_ , we **are** !” Dan found himself pleading, despite knowing none of it was real. “You… **You’re** the one who keeps doing all this stuff for me! _I didn’t_ **_ask_ ** _you to treat me like a charity!_ ”

Dream Chris, acting as if he heard none of this, turned his downtrodden eyes back to Dan.

“I just wanted **one** night where I could pretend we were _friends_ . Not someone who’s pushed around, not someone who worries simply because they were rescued as a kid. Not someone you secretly _hope_ has their marriage ruined so you can make your move. _Real friends_ , **Dan**.” 

The last bit caused Dan to wince, even as the phantom of his nightmares laughed-- back to floating around with lackadaisical airs. 

“Much more in character, wouldn’t you say? Heh, listen, it's been a **HOOT** getting to see the two of you after our d _ear buddy here_ found out about… well, **YOU** , _I suppose._ ” 

The Impostor caressed Chris’ face, looking him in the eyes with an overly exaggerated pout as he tutted sympathetically.

“Poor guy, it’s been so rough on him, hasn’t it? Trying _so hard_ to be a good friend despite the fact he was _clearly_ disturbed by what he saw.” He looked back as Dan, keeping that faux sympathy. “How _awful_ it must be to see drunken memories he didn’t know existed. Tell me Danno: how much did it **STING** to know that-- while you sat by the phone, waiting to be something more, Young Chris slept away as if it _never happened at all?_ ”

Despite these words hitting hard, clutching his cold little heart in a cruel vice grip, Dan managed to fold his arms and scowl defiantly, rather than burst into tears like a part of him wanted to.

“My _emotions_ are none of your _business_.” He replied, simply, violently shutting out memories best left forgotten. Nights of hoping, months of desperately and closely monitoring Chris behavior for any indication at all that he’d felt the same spark Dan had up on that cliff that night.

“Oh, no? Then why don’t you tell _him_ , instead, Dan? Hm? I think he deserves that much, don’t you?”

“No.” Dan turned his head away, stubbornly, and refused to say anything more. If he refused to play this stupid little game, it stopped being a game. And if he stalled long enough, maybe he’d wake up before things got much worse.

“Aw c’mon, don’t be like that!” the impostor laughed at his childish display of defiance. “Let it all out, tell him everything! Like where his favorite shirt went all those years ago. You _told_ him you’d used it as a grease rag to start a fire _when actually,_ you were using it as a pillow case! Oh, that’s just sad, Dan, _and a little_ **_creepy_ ** _if you ask me_.”

“ **_No one_ ** **is asking you**!” Dan shouted back, both hurt and embarrassed. This was, unfortunately, the type of outburst his doppelganger had been hoping for, and continued on.

“And, _just between the three of us_ , **how** many sheets have been soiled in the name of your sick little fantasies? Not _all_ the dreams stop at kissing, _ha-ho_! Let me tell you, if I still had a stomach I think I might have--”

“ **_Enough_ ** !” Dan shouted, pointing an angry finger, and stomping his way closer to the two of them. “ **You have** **_crossed a line_ ** **, pal! It was** **_one_ ** **thing when you were** **_reading my journal_ ** **, but you** **_stay out of my private memories_ ** **!** ”

The specter only snickered at his empty threats, disappearing behind Chris, and shoving him forward. Dan was stopped in his tracks by those sad, disgusted, disappointed eyes gazing down at him.

“Go on, tell him. Who knows, maybe it’ll be the last push he needs to finally cut you out of his life for good. Distance himself yet again, move on, forget all about poor, sad, little Dan. Rip the tape off quickly, _because we_ **_both_ ** _know he’s going to leave eventually._ ”

“No I’m not.”

Dan turned around to see yet another Chris standing there. This one wore a pirate hat for some reason.

“Um, hello? Who are you, I didn’t authorize another Chris figment.” The other Dan zipped over to the new Chris, and waved his hands at him in a shoo-ing motion. “Shoo! Go now.”

“Hey! I am **not** a figment!” Chris frowned and glared. “I’m me, I’m Chris, I was just sailing my ship, across a sea of frosting, and now. I’m here, I guess.” Chris glanced around, warily. “Um, _where_ , is here, exactly?”

“My subconscious, apparently.” Dan offered a weak shrug, then tapped his fingertips together, sheepishly. “Hey uh ... how much of that did you hear, anyway?”

Chris glanced away and scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. _“Enough_ ... enough to know this creep is **_lying_ ** to you, Dan!”

The name calling momentarily had the specter wide eyed, no doubt surprised over this being the genuine article. It didn’t last, however, as soon he was grinning again.

“You **ARE** Chris. WELL, _this certainly is a surprise._ Let me guess, is my body jumping the culprit here? It must be, ‘ _or you wouldn’t have come here_ ’.”

Chris couldn’t help but feel there was a private joke at play, even as the Impostor playfully punched the taller man’s shoulder. Chuckling, he removed Chris’ hat just as he transformed his own attire to that of a sea captain’s.

“That suit really does well for your figure. Have you been working out? C’mon, you can tell me. Elise has you hitting the gym again, doesn’t she?”

It was strange, going from rage to a sense of awkward flattery.

“Oh, well. Not… _not exactly._ ”

“No, it’s been from all that fighting Dan’s been having you do, hasn’t it? Knocking out costume cultists, escaping eldritch gods from beyond this dimension, _not to mention that display with that broad, tall glass of swine at the convention_ . Yes, now **THAT** was quite the show.”

This was met with a playful jab, Chris’ awkward abashment only fueling the real Dan’s jealousy.

“UGH, you two make me wanna blow chunk, _‘you know that_ ’?” This, of course, was said in mockery: Dan doing a terrible impression of the man haunting his dreams. “If you guys are going to get all **chummy** , I’m gonna just go jump off the nearest peak. That’ll wake me from this _melodramatic nightmare_.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” the Impostor whispered into Chris’ ear. “He’s much too worried I’m going to spill too many of his secrets.” 

The ghost looked over at Dan, who was busy playing a game of psychological chicken as he was already stomping away. Dan didn’t get far. He had hardly made it past the few tables still standing, when suddenly he couldn’t move. The more he struggled, the more the shorter man’s middle felt tightened and squeezed. Dan glared back at his double, seeing the ghost mime a pulling rope motion, as he was dragged closer to the other two.

“ _Bah bah bah_ , not so fast, Romeo. I’m not **THROUGH** with you quite yet.”

Eventually, Dan quit struggling and simply sat on the floor, shoulders hunched, arms crossed, not unlike a pouting child. He was reeled in anyway, slowly dragged across the empty restaurant floor;but, at least it had provided more stall time.

And the sense of spite was even almost good enough to overpower the humiliation. **Almost.**

“C’mon, Dan, don’t _go_ ! The **real** Chris is here now, _why don’t you two have a chat_?” The poltergeist took Dan by the shoulder and spun him around to face Chris, who stood looking down at him, both worried and incredibly confused as to what exactly he’d walked into.

Dan wasn’t one to give up his stubbornness so quickly under normal circumstances, but this was a decidedly unfortunate and compromised angle for him, everything considered. He begrudgingly stood, and regarded his best friend with an annoyed, flat stare.

“Oh, wait, just one thing first, let me just...”

With a snap of his fingers, Chris' mouth vanished. He made a surprised, muffled sound, and began feeling where his mouth used to be. Dan continued to look unimpressed.

“There, much better! _Now Dan._ You know, I might’ve been _wrong_ . Maybe it **isn’t** too late to pretend nothing ever happened, hm? Go back to the way things were _before_ I intervened? Isn’t that what you want?”

Dan said nothing, made no attempt to move, arms still hung limply at his sides. He shifted only his eyes over to turn his flat stare on the impostor instead.

“I’ll take that as a yes. **_Sooo_ ** , why don’t you begin by assuring Chris that you’ve moved _past_ all of that unfortunate pining? _Sure_ there’s still the occasional dream, _a passing_ **_thought,_ ** _perhaps_ , but you’ve _moved on_ since high school! Heck, you’ve even had several girlfriends _and sure_ , they didn’t exactly _work out_ / But let’s face it! You’re doing the best you can with what you have to work with.”

Dan turned his eyes back onto Chris and shrugged.

“What he said. If that’s really what’s been making you act all weird lately, you can stop it. _It isn’t a big deal._ You were just one of many hopes for a happy future I had in high school that didn’t quite pan out the way I’d hoped they might.”

Chris made a noise that sounded like a muffled whine. Dan ignored this and smiled tiredly.

“But hey, buddy, at least you stuck around. What you lack in taste, you sure do make up for in loyalty. I’ll give you that.”

Chris’ hands were still at his mouth, clawing before finding a corner that didn’t feel as smooth. Like duct tape over the mouth, he ripped off the sealing flesh with one long squelching sound. Eyes watering from the pain, mouth red, Chris desperately tried speaking again.

“ **No** Dan, that’s **not** what I want!”

And much more violently, Impostor Dan silenced Chris once more-- slapping a metal plating over his mouth. He tutted, giving the real Dan soulful eyes.

“Oh my, s _o much_ ** _conviction!_** Is this the end of Chris and Dan; truly curtains on this destructive dynamic duo?” He sighed. “Well, if that’s what it’s going to be. Let’s spare ol’ Dan the hard feelings and send you off, Chris. Give the lad time to **grieve** , _you understand._ ”

Chris **DID** understand. And for the first time since having met the man-- back when he was still alive-- Chris saw the Impostor for what he truly was. Not a criminal with a heart of gold, not a guy with lax morals made up with impeccable social skills… But there, within the corners of Dan’s mind, he saw him as the cruel manipulator he was.

And Chris **REFUSED** to let him rip him from this reality. Grabbing the spectre by the face, surprising both Dans, Chris slammed the man’s head into the ground with a loud sickening **CRACK.** The ghost flailed, doing his best to worm himself from the vice grip.

“ _N-now Chris_ , you don’t want to hurt your good buddy **Dan** , do you?” He went from wary smiles to full blown panicking as the larger man was beginning to push his being through the floor. “Stop, please! You don’t know what it’s like to be trapped inside this troll’s mind. Not able to live your own **life**!”

Dan watched with wide eyes as Chris’ glare intensified. It was with one final slam that the Impostor vanished, swallowed by the world around him. And with his presence gone, no doubt shoved into the deepest abscess of Dan’s subconscious, that reality slipped away like water through a sieve. 

Leaving Dan and Chris to the darkness.

Chris Pearson stood, panting and looking disheveled, as he turned his hardened gaze to Dan himself. A shiver went through him: concern wasn’t the only reason for this. The shorter man swallowed, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly as Chris trudged his way closer, those electrifying tingles of desire shocking his system.

A distraction was needed.

“WELL, this has been-- well, maybe not the WORST experience. But maybe the 27th? Where do you think this ranks on a scale to 1-10?” Chris, mouth still covered by the metal plating was still walking closer. Dan’s nervousness grew, and with it his irritation.“I can’t talk to you like this. Here, stand **STILL** _and let me just_ \--”

This thought was silenced the moment Dan was wrapped in a tight embrace. Chris was still shaking, but it was with uneven breathes that Dan began to realize that Chris… _Chris was_ **_crying_ ** _, wasn’t he?_

“Uhh ... there, there?” Dan offered, awkwardly, patting Chris on the back. Dreams were _usually_ strange and confusing, but this was a little much. Not to mention uncomfortable, Dan had never been very _good_ at comfort.

“There will **be** other **_pies_ **, Chris, calm down.”

He was released from the embrace, now being held only by a hand on each upper arm. Chris locked eyes with him, his expression so sorrowful and intense even in a dream state where these things tended to be vague and blurry. And then Chris began to fade, slowly at first, and then he was just suddenly gone, leaving Dan alone in the dark.

“Well, that was **weird**.” Dan muttered to none but himself.

* * *

“Chris ... Chris, honey, you’re _crying_ , what’s wrong?”

The dream world let go and Chris found himself back in the waking world, his wife gently shaking him. Still half asleep, he turned to face her, his hazy mind scrambling for words.

“I have to go back. Dan, _he thinks this is about the pies._ ”

Elise blinked in confusion, brow quirked as she tried her best to soothe her husband.

“Oh honey, it’s alright. You were having a bad dream.”

No doubt from all the stress he’s been in, poor thing. Chris wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, shaking his head vehemently.

“No, Elise. I was **THERE** . I was in Dan’s dream. And **DAN** was there!”

“Yeah… you just said it was his dream.”

Chris was growing more frantic as his mind tried to grasp at memories that were already slipping away.

“Not Dan, Elise, **OTHER** Dan. Big, body snatching, _dead dead_ **_DEAD_ ** Dan. Somehow he was involved. Something about when he possessed us?”

At this Elise sat up straighter, grabbing onto her husband as she started assessing him.

“Are you okay? Did he **DO** anything to you?” 

“But didn’t you say it was just a dream?”

Elise let go to get to her bedside table, pulling out a flashlight from the drawer. Yanking Chris to her eye level, she started explaining even as she flashed the light into his corneas.

“Spiritual possession isn’t a phenomena fully studied; however, near death experiences have been. Many report developing what they claim to be psychic connections- knowing things about people they shouldn’t know, high levels of empathy, c _ommunication with the other side…_ ”

Chris rubbed away the spots as his wife turned off the flashlight, finishing her thought.

“You’ve always had a deep connection with Dan, and being a natural sweetheart and all…” Elise shrugged. “I’m willing to believe Dan dragged you into **something** _yet again._ ”

Her playful airs disappeared as Chris threw back the covers, climbing out of bed to their dresser where his phone was charging. 

“Chris, what--”

“I have to call him, he has to **know** !” The tall man looked back at his wife, his eyes starting to water again. “You weren’t there, _you didn’t hear what he said_.”

Seeing Chris in such a state hurt, but his words filled Elise with excited hope.

“Wait, you mean you’re gonna **_tell him_ ** tell him? About your feelings? ... Over the phone?"

Chris paused, half way through dialing Dan’s number, and looked over at his wife. She was giving him a look.

“Is ... that too impersonal?” He tried. Elise gave a weak, lopsided smile.

“It’s a _little_ impersonal.”

* * *

Dan was jolted into a state of half-wakefulness at the familiar sound of his phone ringing. He rolled over and grabbed it.

“ _Meeehn_ , hello?” He mumbled groggily into the receiver.

“Dan, it’s Chris.”

Dan smiled brightly, despite despising being woken up at this hour, thanks to the lingering brain fuzzies.

“Oh, Chris, hey! I was just _dreaming_ about you, I think.”

“Uh, yeah I, I know. Listen, could you come over later? Around lunch time? We need to talk.”

Those four words sobered Dan up fairly quickly. He sat up in bed now, phone still pressed to his ear.

“...About what?”

There was a loud sniffle on the other end of the line, and he had to pull the phone away a little.

“It’s not about the **pies** , Dan.” Chris whined into the phone, his voice taking on that pre-cry waver, no longer even sure himself what pies had to do with anything, but knowing it was important somehow. “Please, just come over when you can.”

**[[ Art by Micaxiii ]](https://micaxiii.tumblr.com/post/613393306298220544/oh-chris-hey-i-was-just-dreaming-about-you-i) **

There was a moment of uncertain silence that hurt more than it had any right to. Finally,

“Okay?”

“Thank you, Dan. I’ll see you later.”

The line clicked as Chris hung up, and Dan held his phone in his lap, staring down at it, feeling both perplexed and, for some reason, a creeping sense of unease.

The echo of a laugh left within his skull, _taunting with its familiarity_ , told Dan everything he needed to know.


	8. Chris VS. Entering the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lemonade could have been a little sweeter...

Jamieson Avenue-- when not thrust into the whirlwind of madness simply called ‘Dan’-- was known to be a peaceful neighborhood. The neighbors were the sort to welcome each other with trays of rice krispie treats, throwing barbeques and garden parties throughout the year. And perhaps not counting the time Mrs. Allens of the block committee came poking around to tell the Pearsons that their yellowed grass wasn’t up to code, the couple couldn’t help but find their home to be their little slice of paradise.

However, inside, it was nowhere near as peaceful as Chris tapped his spatula nervously against the counter. While his gaze was on the grilled cheese in the frying pan, every so often his head would turn back to the clock that hung over their kitchen entryway. It was already quarter past one, and still there hadn’t been heads or tails of Dan. Chris flipped the sandwich, muscle memory not needing him to look away from the ticking time piece.

“Do you think he’s coming? _I don’t think he’s coming._ He’d be here by now if Dan was planning on showing, right?”

Elise, who had been busy making fresh squeezed lemonade for their late lunch, effortlessly chopped up the citrus as she prepared to put them in the juicer.

“Chris, honey, calm down. He’ll be here.” Her husband could only just barely make out the mufflings of “ _I’ll make_ **_sure_ ** _of it_ ” against the sizzling of the pan. Chris grabbed one of the many sandwiches on the plate next to him, taking half the grilled cheese with a single bite

“Yeah, _maybe_ . Just… we’re making lunch, and I don’t want it to be cold by the time he gets here. Dan **HATES** that.”

Elise looked back from her own counter, raising a brow.

“I think he’ll have to worry about there being any _at all_ by this rate. Weren’t there 12?”

There had been, she had counted to see the state her husband was in. While eating itself wasn’t unusual, the fact he had continued beyond the reasonable amount for three meant his focus was clearly _elsewhere_.

Chris looked between his sandwich and the platter, realising that half a dozen had disappeared.

“... We still have half a pack of soy cheese, I’ll… I’ll make sure Dan gets something.” A pause, his head whipping back to the close. 12:19. “ **If** he shows up. Should I call? _I’m gonna call._ ”

Elise, during the man’s fidgeting, had walked across the room. The lemonade could wait, as she gently took away his phone.

“Chris, _breathe_ . You’re overthinking things again.” She rubbed his arm in small circles, the effect it left on her husband almost immediate. “You’ve said how much he means to you in every other way possible. This is just you guys trying to tie the knot on it, that’s all.” Elise leaned, doing a little pivot onto her toes, as she placed a kiss on Chris’ cheek. “ You’ll be **fine**. And if you need me, I’ll be here to play referee.”

Chris gave her a soft, appreciative smile that barely touched the worry still evident in his eyes. His verbal thanks would have to be put on hold, however, as he jumped and the spatula went flying out of his hands at the sound of loud pounding at their front door. Elise-- always quick of reflex-- caught the utensil before it hit the floor. Seeing that Chris was now frozen to the spot, she stepped between him and the stove, and began firmly but gently pushing him toward the living room, the heels of his shoes sliding stubbornly across the floor the entire way.

“I’ve got the sandwiches covered, you go answer the door.”

She stopped pushing and left him in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room before returning to the stove to finish up lunch.

Chris took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a long, loud sigh. This at the very least broke his paralysis, but the walk to the door didn’t take long enough. He opened the door with a less than steady hand to see a familiar, scowling face. Chris felt himself smiling, as if a nervous reflex, and words were tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Hey, Dan, no suit today?”

Dan stepped past him and into the house without waiting to be invited, stopping a few feet inside to turn and address him.

“I only woke up half an hour ago, you’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”

“Oh.” Chris’ smile collapsed into a surprised frown. “Wait, you went _back to bed_ after I called?”

“Yes?” Dan replied, turning to head toward the kitchen, Chris following behind. “You called at _eight in the morning_ , Chris, most **normal** people are still **sleeping** at that hour.”

Nervousness was out the window, just like that, as the usual need to argue against Dan’s flawed logic replaced it.

“No, **normal** people are usually _working_ at that hour, or getting **ready** for work, or even--”

“Aww, now _that’s_ what I like to see.”

Chris was used to being interrupted. He was used to Dan tuning him out. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing. He decided to drop the conversation, noticing Dan was gesturing toward Elise in front of the stove. He raised a brow and frowned when Dan turned to face him, grinning and giving him a double thumbs up.

“ _Good job, buddy_!” He whispered loudly.

“ _Dan,_ **_no._ ** ” Chris whispered harshly back, “ _that’s not what this is. And it’s just_ **_mean_ ** _.”_

“It’s also **stupid** on your part.” This surprised both men. Jolting where they stood, they turned their attention to Elise, who was still looking at the stove. “Haven’t you ever heard women have eyes on the back of their head?”

This was punctuated by one final toss-- sending the sandwich into the air with a few flips before landing onto the platter with the others. Elise turned around-- and despite both men assuming she would throw them a glare-- her face, instead, bore a pleasant grin.

“Hello Dan, you’re just in time for lunch.” Making her way towards the table, she placed the plate down gingerly. “Please, sit. Go ahead and start without me, I want to finish making the lemonade.”

Dan frowned in confusion, as Elise tapped him on the shoulder before she passed. 

“O...kay.”

The shorter man schooched towards the table-- his eyes kept on Elise _just in case_. He picked the chair where he could clearly see all exists-- his suspicions already hitting through the roof. This, of course, only got worse as he noticed what was for lunch.

“Oooh, no. I’m onto your plan, woman! You can’t get me to eat your vile poison **TWICE** . You **KNOW** I’m allergic to dairy!”

“ _DAN!_ ” Chris cried out in exasperation.

Elise, meanwhile, threw the gremlin of a man an unimpressed look as she cleavered a lemon in half.

“I am _more_ than aware. And I hope **YOU** know that if I wanted to poison you, I have ways far more subtle at my disposal. _Some not even on the market yet for testing.”_ Her smile returned. “ **Besides** , Chris made them with soy. You trust him, don’t you?”

Dan was silent, looking away from the couple as his glare was aimed at the stains on the floor. He grumbled, grabbing the grilled cheese without much additional protest. Chris, taking this as a sign things were cooling down-- _for now--_ sat across from him. He had hardly plopped into the kitchen chair when he grabbed his 7th sandwich, already feeling nervous flutters at the fact Dan said (without saying) what he thought of him.

The silence in that kitchen was just uncomfortable. Chris, stuffing his mouth full of food instead of talking, Dan silently and moodily poking and nibbling on his own sandwich. What was perhaps even more unnerving was the sound of the knife clunking against the chopping board every few seconds as Elise sliced citrus behind them. 

_Dan flinching angrily every time._

Finally, he just couldn’t take it anymore. Obviously, Chris had invited him over here to tell him something terrible. Why else would he be stalling? Chris had always been bad with verbal confrontation where it really mattered. Dan was a little insulted to think Chris seemed to assume Dan couldn’t handle any terrible news he could dish out.

“Chris, **I** love sitting in awkward silence about as much as the next guy, but I **_assume_ ** you invited me over _for a_ **_reason_ **?” He coaxed, not bothering to hide the annoyed impatience in his tone.

Chris flashed him a quick, sheepish smile ... and shoved another sandwich into his mouth. “M-hmph!” Chris replied, eyes darting away. Dan leaned on the table and raised a brow, frowning. Alright. Chris wanted to make this difficult? It had now become a guessing game from hell.

“You’re moving.”

Surprise dawned on Chris’ face, and suddenly he was looking at Dan again. “Wuh? Noh!” He assured, still chewing, shaking his head.

“Umm ... you’re having the house fumigated and you want to know if you can sleep on the couch for a few nights.”

“No...” Chris swallowed his food, wincing slightly as if it hurt.

“You’ve contracted some horrible disease and you’re dying slowly and you’re leaving all of your worldly possessions to me and Mr. Mumbles?” Dan was smiling faintly now. This was actually kind of fun. Chris seemed to be having less fun.

“ **No**!” Chris practically shouted from across the table. This only fueled Dan’s desire to continue.

“Elise has impregnated you somehow and you’re carrying her spawn.”

“ **_Dan_ **!” Chris stood from his chair and glared at his friend, who stared back at him, cooly. The hint of a smile he saw there told Chris that Dan was just teasing, extinguishing any anger he may have felt. “That one doesn’t even make sense.” He finished weakly.

“Oh? But doesn’t it? She admitted _herself_ to possessing **eyes** in the back of her _head_ , Chris, **_I_ ** think she might be _an alien_.”

“Dan...”

“Although I still stand by ‘cyborg’ being the most likely.”

It was by that point Elise returned to the table, pitcher of lemonade and glasses in hand.

“Gotta agree, Dan: completely ridiculous.” She poured him a glass, pushing it to the man in question as amusement played on her features. “ After how often you’ve called me a harpy, I would think you’d go the route of demon first.”

Chris could see the urge within this friend to knock over the glass, just because he couldn’t stand his wife actually being cheerful in his direction. Dan’s fingers twitched, before grabbing the glass and actually taking a swallow.

Chris left out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you, Elise,” Chris grabbed his own glass, though he didn’t drink it. Instead he cleared his throat, as he tried getting things started.

“But you’re right, it is something… _serious?_ ” He looked at his wife for confirmation, who just gave him an encouraging nod. He carried on. “It’s about your dream last night. You… realize I was there, right?”

Dan rolled his eyes.

“You said that on the phone this morning.” What was with this guy? He didn’t need to come all this way for a REPEAT conversation.

“Yeah, well. It’s about the things you said.”

This was where Dan sat up straighter in his seat, whipping his head in the direction of his friend as his eyes were both wide in panic and anger.

“Hey! _You said you weren’t there for that stuff!_ You can’t blame me for what that **CREEP** said in **MY** head!”

It was Chris’ turn to look surprised.

“What? No. I meant later. A-after all that, um… _whatever it was that was said._ ”

Elise gave him a look of curiosity.

“ **DID** you actually overhear something?”

“ **ELISE** , _you aren’t helping._ ”

The woman put her hands up in surrender, while Dan tried to think what the heck Chris even **MEANT** . If it wasn’t the bit about wet dreams, what else was there to even talk about? Most of the dream had been standard nightmares 101: feeling worthless, mocked, sense of control taken. The only thing a little iffy was the fact it was all being orchestrated by a **dead guy** , _but eh_.

Chris, meanwhile, tried his best to get things back on track.

“Dan, it’s about the thing about moving on. And, and maybe the thing about being a hope you thought you lost?” 

That sad look he had been wearing since the day before returned. Dan tried his best to ignore it. He instead glowered at Elise, who was-- _as always_ \-- standing between the two of them.

“We gonna do this **HERE**? _In front of your ball-and-chain?_ **NO** thanks.”

Dan had pushed himself away from the table and slid out of his seat, but he’d only taken a single step when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. It wasn’t a gentle hand, either, squeezing to the point it was almost painful. He glanced up at Elise’s stern frown.

“Sit, Dan.”

“I will do **_no such thing_ ** , I am **leaving** . And furthermore, how **_dare_ ** you-- **_hey!_ **”

Dan’s feet kicked uselessly as Elise grabbed him by the back of his shirt and lifted him off the ground, much like the brute from the convention had done, and seemingly with just as little effort.

“Let me **go** you _unfeeling cybernetic_ \-- **I WILL** **_END_ ** **YOU!** ”

He wasn’t dropped, so much as slammed back into his chair. He turned to stare up at Elise in mute shock. She glared down at him, arms crossed, as if daring him to move again. His bottom hurt, he was frightened, and a little turned on. He turned back to Chris, hands folded professionally and politely on the table.

“Well, Chris, you’ll be happy to hear I’ve decided to stay and hear you out. You may speak.”

Chris, after watching his best friend get manhandled by his own wife (and not for the first time), pushed down the wary knot in his gut and cleared his throat. Right. Moving on.

“Uh, Dan, what if, _hypothetically_ , it **wasn’t** too late for you and me, to, you know ...” Oh, why were words so hard? Chris wished he could look at Dan when he was saying this, he truly did. But alas.

Dan was staring at Chris now, eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly agape in disbelief at what he assumed his best friend was implying. His eyes darted fearfully over to Elise to gauge her reaction to this sordid admittance of guilt. When he caught her smiling warmly at him, it all clicked into place, and quite frankly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“ _Ooohh..._ ”

Chris visibly slumped in his seat when the tension left him, thank the heavens, he’d finally gotten it, he finally understood.

“Did you guys invite me over here to engage in some sort of experimental threesome kink, because I--”

He was rudely interrupted by Elise choking on her lemonade.

“ _No_ ! Oh wow. Excuse me.” Elise did her best to cover her face as she continued to cough, leaning over to whisper to Chris, “ _Explain, quickly,_ **_now_ **.” And then leaving toward the bathroom. They watched her leave until she was out of sight, and then Dan turned back around to face Chris.

“ **Sheesh** , what’s **her** problem, _like she’s never thought about it before.._.” He muttered, crossing his arms and sliding down in his seat with a scowl on his face.

“Oh, don’t worry about -- wait, have **_you_ ** thought about--” Chris shook his head. Focus. “Never mind. Dan, what I **meant** was, what if it wasn’t too late for us, _that is you and I_ , to ... be together? A couple? ... Romantically involved?”

Dan was back up in his seat, this becoming a day of many surprises. Eyes wide, he lost years of anger as he stared at the man across from him-- looking childish as his brain tried to catch up with everything.

[[ Art by Micaxiii]](https://micaxiii.tumblr.com/)

“What… what did you say?”

Chris found himself encouraged by the simple fact Dan hadn’t thrown the lemonade in his face.

“You’ve been concerned about me, I guess? That’s what the dream was about, right? Why I’ve been acting… different?” Dan nodded dumbly, and the taller man went on. “This is why. I’ve been, _thinking_ . And I came to realize you are very important to me. I knew I always cared for you, but almost losing you… and… and finding out what _you_ feel for **ME**?”

Chris exhaled, giving his best friend an awkward smile.

“Well, it jump started some things. I guess what I’m saying is: I love you Dan. _As more than your friend._ ”

And there they were: the words Dan had long waited to hear. Words he never expected outside his sappiest (and some sordid) fantasies. This explained so much! Chris’ over protectiveness as of late-- on his behalf, rather than trying to shield everyone one. It explained the outings-- the dinner! Everything was adding up in such a way that Dan was tempted to pinch his friend across from him just to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming!

 _“Quick,_ Chris: say something stupid. Like ‘no Dan, you better not have plans to blow up the park down the street.’”

“What? Wait, _do you have plans to blow up the park?_ Kids **PLAY** there, Dan!”

Chris’ confusion, the fact he didn’t just agree to a romantic get together of ultimate destruction, was all the proof Dan needed.

“This is real,” he said, in disbelief. “You… you **love** me?”

Chris found himself smiling, looking away as he rubbed his neck awkwardly as he felt his face growing warm.

“Well… _yeah._ ” A pause. “Is that okay?”

It was more than okay. It was the best news Dan ever heard! And it was obvious, as his face broke out into the widest of grins. Those fluttery feelings of jubilation and its intensity would have been enough to get the water working running… if it weren’t for the fact he was a **man** and doing that was stupid, and **SO** not like him.

Instead, Dan jumped out of his seat-- chair clambering to the floor-- as he ran to the other side of the table, forcefully turning his best friend to face him. Chris’ startlement didn’t get to turn into concern, as Dan, still grinning the happiest smile Chris had ever seen, placed a hand on both of the larger man’s arms.

“Okay? This is **MORE** than okay! Chris, I **KNEW** you’d someday come to your senses. Yeah, a bit late-- _you weren’t always the sharpest tool in the shed_ \-- but you got there, pal!” 

He squeezed the arms in his hands, not yet ready and able to do anything more intimate. Dan was too busy shaking with excitement! He laughed, which was contagious enough to cause Chris to join him, and he shared the awkward embrace. Dan was laughing to the point his sides were hurting-- the watery eyes he developed surely being from the pain. 

“I, _haha_ , I can’t believe you’re **FINALLY** … _heh_ , _you’re_ **_FINALLY_ ** _leaving Elise!_ ”

Dan’s words sank in, but slowly, finding resistance against the soft warm blanket of relief and affection. Chris’ laughter tapered off gradually as they did.

“Aheh ... heh ... huh? I’m not leaving Elise ...”

But Dan’s laughter continued on, just as mirthful as before, in fact he snickered at Chris’ comment as if it had obviously been said in jest.

“ _Of course_ you are, buddy! You just said it yourself, you love **me** now!”

Oh. Oh no. Chris was quickly beginning to realize he really should have been more specific.

“Wuh, I, I **do** , Dan! But, I still love my wife...”

Dan’s laughter cut off so abruptly it sent an icy shard of fear through Chris’ gut. His best friend quickly let him go and stepped away from him as if Chris had suddenly sprouted deadly spikes. The look of hurt reproach and deadly simmering rage on Dan’s face told Chris just how badly Chris had messed up.

“Dan, wait, let me explain--”

Dan couldn’t believe it. Well, he **could** , he _did_ , but he didn’t **_want_ ** to believe it. Chris was just toying with his emotions, after all. What kind of sick game was he playing? Declaring his love, only to snatch it away again a moment later? This was a level of senseless cruelty he hadn’t expected from the only person in the world he’d been foolish enough to trust. Dan was almost impressed, even through the hurt.

Chris would pay for this betrayal ... some day ... but for now, Dan needed to be anywhere else but there.

“You have said quite enough, thank you very much.” Dan began backing away, keeping his cold glare fixed on Chris for a while. He pointed both index fingers at Chris and shouted, “ **You’re back on the list, buddy**!” before turning and stomping out through the kitchen door.

Chris stood and ran after him, calling for him to stop, and rounded the corner just as their front door slammed shut. Chris scrambled to catch up, but could only stand there and watch as Dan peeled out of their yard and down the road.

Chris didn’t know how long he had truly stood there-- be in minutes or even hours. It was the soft touch on his lower back that shook him out of his stupor, turning to see Elise.

“Go find him.”

“But--”

“It’ll be okay.” Chris could feel his eyes beginning to prickle, even as the loving caress on his cheek reassured him. “ _Shh_ , baby. _I know._ **Find** him, **explain.”** Elise placed his keys in his hand, giving him a smile. “ I’ll man the fort until you get back.”

If Chris Pearson needed any more proof he married the right woman, that alone would be it. 

The large man couldn’t help himself as his arms swallowed up her smaller frame, kissing his wife with everything he had. Every _thank you_ , _I love you_ , and _you’re wonder_ mashed into the quickest burst of passion Elise had ever seen. And just as soon as it came, it went, Chris’ grip tightening on his keys.

“Well **both** be back.’

_That was a promise._

* * *

If Chris knew anything about the habits of his best friend, it was that there were very few places he haunted. The first stop was Casa Paradisio-- Dan’s apartment complex. In hindsight Chris should have known that would be a bust, as knocking and resorting to using his own spare key resorted in nothing but a mewing Mumbles asking about lunch. 

Yes, too obvious of a hiding place. Dan was smarter than that.

Next was Wally’s Emporium-- word from Wally, himself, telling Chris that he hadn’t seen heads or tails of the guy that day. ( _“Shame, too, he’ll be upset to know we’re having a two for one sale on pipe bombs he’s missing out on.”_ ) Alright, so maybe Dan hadn’t come up with anything yet-- which meant he was still in the planning stages. Chris, thinking about the fact the man had hardly eaten lunch, decided that meant Burgerphile was next on the agenda. 

It took all his sheer force of will not to stop and order a bacon double the moment Chris noticed Dan wasn’t in their usual spot.

By this point panic had set in, as a good handful of hours had passed. The longer Dan was left alone, the more Chris worried his friend was going to do **SOMETHING**. Whether it be taking his anger out on the populace, or on Dan, himself…

This led Chris Pearson to the San Fernando Police Department. While relief had been immediate upon hearing the officer stationed at the counter hadn’t seen anyone matching his description, nor heard anything on the radio-- reminding him it would need to be 48 hours before he could file a missing person’s-- it… didn’t exactly bring him comfort. 

Dan was still **missing** , after all.

It was in the parking lot, drumming his hand impatiently on the wheel, that Chris tried calling Dan’s phone. Sure, he hadn’t picked up the phone any of the other 20 times… but as the sun was beginning to set, maybe he changed his mind?

The sound of the answer machine telling him to buzz off was confirmation to Chris that, ah, no… No he had NOT.

Chris threw his phone into the passenger seat, slamming his head into the steering wheel. The repeated honks went ignored, as he grumbled to himself in frustration.

“C’mon, Chris, THINK.”

_HONK._

“You’re his best friend.”

_HONK._

“Come up with SOMETHING!”

**_HOOONK!_ **

It was the final sound of the horn that jolted Chris from introspection, somehow being startled had jump started his brain. Someplace of enough significance was the key. Shifting from park to drive, Chris swerved the wheel violently-- years of having to get out of dodge and avoid things chasing after him coming into play. 

_Chris-- driving as fast as the speed limit would allow down route 101-- only hoped his hunch was_ **_right_ ** _._

* * *

He almost didn’t see Dan in the fading light, just barely spotting the small huddled dark shape against the brightly colored sky. Chris shut off his car and stepped out, noting the figure didn’t so much as flinch as he shut his door. Dan still made no attempt to move or give any indication he was aware of Chris’ presence at all, even as he walked up and stood beside him-- both of them staring out over Space Monkey Rock. Dan sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, arms crossed atop them, all but his eyes buried behind them, staring off into the distance moodily.

“How’d you find me?” He heard Dan mutter. Chris glanced over his shoulder at Dan’s car parked haphazardly against the narrow rocky path that led to the point, the headlights still brightly shining out like a beacon that Chris had seen long before arriving.

“Um ... call it a hunch. What can I say, Dan, we keep ending up here.”

“It was a good movie.” Dan replied, tone momentarily optimistic.

“ _Yeah_ it was!” Chris agreed, excitedly, ready to recount his favorite parts with his best friend for the millionth time, but suddenly remembering himself and why he was there. Instead he sighed, and sat down on the ground next to Dan, who still wouldn’t look at him.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to sit next to me, _jerk_. No backstabbing traitors allowed.”

“Mm, yeah, it’s a free country, though.” Chris shrugged. Dan seemed to hunch his shoulders and become even smaller.

“ _Stupid free country._ ” He heard Dan grumble. Chris frowned.

“Dan, I’m not a traitor, I didn’t _betray_ you!”

This, at least, got Dan to glance at him, even if it was only to shoot him with a brief, deadly glare.

“And now you’re a **liar** , too. Care to add anything else to the list while you’re at it?”

“I’m not a liar, either!” Chris nearly shouted in exasperation. “I can care deeply about both of you at the same time, can’t I?”

“That’s the same as saying you don’t want anything to change, _but ten times more cruel_.”

Chris sat there staring at Dan for a moment, at a loss for words. How in the world had Dan come to this conclusion? What type of logic was he running on? Finally, out tumbled a reply as eloquent as he could manage in that moment.

“ _What_ ? What does that even **_mean_ **?”

Dan shrank into himself even further then somehow, turning his face away in the complete opposite direction, and Chris began to think he wasn’t going to get an answer. And so he let the silence spin out, stars beginning to dot the night sky as the sun was just about to disappear over the horizon.

Chris caught movement from the corner of his eye, and looked over to see Dan had unraveled himself, and was now sitting with his legs outstretched. He stared up at Chris with a glare that was doing a poor job of masking the raw hurt beneath it.

[[Art by Micaxiii]](https://micaxiii.tumblr.com/)

“I **_already_ ** share you with her, Chris ...” He whined, suddenly sounding like a toddler arguing over his bedtime. 

Chris found this endearing, even as he tried to be a bit more rational about the exchange.

“You shared my time, yeah. But… I like to think this is a _little_ different?” 

He received no response, and Chris took this time to look down over the San Fernando Valley. It always amazed him how everything seemed so… _clear_ , when able to see everything from up here. It could be easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle, the minor details getting the better of them. Bogged down by the everyday worries, stressing about bills and the undeniable dread of your life spiraling away from what was known… it became easier to forget the bigger picture.

Chris, in that moment, somehow felt he may have been doing the same thing with Dan. And maybe it was time to show them both a clearer view.

“Dan… I’m sorry I didn’t remember what happened. And… And about how much I unknowingly hurt you.” He let out a shaky sigh. “Admittedly, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, lately. Wondering how different things would have been, you know? If we… If we would have **been** something.”

Chris could feel Dan’s weighty gaze on him, and he slowly turned his own back at him.

“But the truth of the matter is that I… **_we_** can’t know. It didn’t happen, you never said something, and I met Elise. And I _do_ love her Dan, I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t.” A pause. “But I also wouldn’t have brought this up with her if I didn’t love you, too. We wouldn’t have come up with ways to tell you. Her being my, uh, wing wife, _I guess?_ ”

The joke was stupid enough that it got a scoff from the other man, and that felt promising. Chris’s hand swallowed up the smaller one next to him, as he gently placed it on top of Dan’s.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do or how to feel. I just wanted to give you the facts from my side of the equation, okay?” He shook his head, smiling apologetically. “I already feel selfish for getting us into this whole mess. But, um… know that we want you in our family. Even if you don’t want to, _you know._ ”

_‘Even if you don’t want to date me.’_

Dan, meanwhile, had been busy fighting the warm fuzzy feelings from having his hand held. How many times had he grabbed Chris’ hand to drag him off somewhere, how many times had he clung to the man in fear or excitement, and how was this any different? Sentiment and intention mattered, apparently, and had this grown man feeling the flutters.

Chris’ last statement had provided a much appreciated distraction, however, and Dan squinted up at him. Chris’ warm smile faltered, as if he was worried what this look meant.

“Chris, I think we both know I want to ‘ _you kno-_ -”

“ **Date,** Dan, I meant date me, be romantically involved, yeah I, I really should have been more specific.”

“You really should have.”

Chris sighed wearily and shook his head, and decided to try again.

“Dan, would you like to join me and Elise in whatever passes as happily ever after these days?”

Dan didn’t reply right away, instead looking away from Chris and out at the view. Chris followed suit and waited. A smile tugged at Chris’ mouth when he felt the hand under his shift, the tips of Dan’s fingers slipping between his in the sneakiest, most subtle return hand hold he’d ever witnessed. He also noticed Dan’s feet waving slightly back and forth. Nervous energy, perhaps?

“Elise is really okay with all this, huh?”

“Yeah! She’s, _supportive_. In fact, like I said, if it wasn’t for her, I might never have had the courage to tell you at all. She’s really great, Dan, you should really give her a chance...”

“ **_And_ **you’d be willing to adopt Mr. Mumbles? We’re a package deal, y’know, you take me, you get her, too.”

Chris didn’t miss the fact he’d completely ignored that part about giving Elise a chance, but let it slide.

“If it makes you happy, _sure._ ” Chris grinned. “Your cat is the least troubling aspect about you, anyway.”

“ **AGAIN** with the wisecracks! Here you come, **BEGGING** on your knees for me to take you, and you go and --” Dan didn’t get to finish as Chris was starting to clamber onto his feet, dusting off his pants. “ _And what do you think you’re doing?_ ”

“Elise must be worried about us by now. And you haven’t eaten since lunch, right?” Chris was greeted by silence, which told him everything. He held out his hand to help his more-than-friend off the ledge. “Let’s go home.”

Dan looked at the hand offered to him, then back to the kind visage of the man looming over him. It was so dumb, simply **idiotic**. They were words with multitudes of implications-- really, one of these days he’d need to beat the importance of clarifications into the man. Throw the book at him, literally and figuratively. Yet… the one Dan focused on, as he grabbed onto Chris’ hand and pulled him towards his level, was the fact Impostor Dan had been wrong about the assessment of his life all along:

 _Dan Mandel_ **_WAS_ ** _wanted._

Chris didn’t even get a chance to enjoy the first kiss he could remember with his best friend, as Dan was already getting off the ground and heading towards his car.

“WELL, c’mon, ya big ape. I can’t move my car until you get your hunk of junk outta the way! You two owe me dinner!”

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same…

[[Art by Micaxiii]](https://micaxiii.tumblr.com/)

_And Chris Pearson found himself okay with that._


End file.
